Just Two Normal People
by taylortot
Summary: A collection of unrelated drabbles and one-shots about a half-youmu boy and a clumsy Spirit World warrior. I'm open to suggestions!
1. The Beach

She tried to ignore the feel of his eyes on her as she lathered sunscreen onto her unsurprisingly pale skin. It wouldn't do to get a sunburn, but she was starting to wonder what was so captivating about her motions.

"S-senpai?" Mirai mumbled as she squared herself to face him on her towel, hoping that the blush in her cheeks could be chalked up to sun exposure. It was an exceptionally sunny day at the beach, after all.

Akihito didn't even bother to look ashamed of his blatant staring. "Yeah?" His eyes remained stuck to her, though they seemed to be glued to her face instead of the skin she rarely showed off. _That _was both a comfort and a disappointment.

Perplexed by his thoughts - and especially by the strange expression on his face - she extended the sunscreen to him. "You need some of this, right? That's why you're staring at me?"

He hesitated a moment before taking the bottle out of her small hand. His fingers brushed against hers slightly and she still couldn't help but be in awe of the ease he seemed to have around her. For most of her life, people gave her a ten-foot bubble and obviously displayed an aversion to any physical touch when it happened on accident or couldn't be helped. The fact that Akihito seemed completely unfazed by her dangerous ability, even if he _was_ immortal, always left her in a bit of shock.

"Thanks," he supplied warmly, though he suddenly frowned at her. "Where are your glasses, Kuriyama-san?"

"Eh?" The question was so abrupt that she was thrown off guard. "I left them at home. I didn't want to lose them in the water."

His expression became stricken. "You don't have them with you?"

She glowered and turned her eyes to the children playing in the waves, deliberately refusing to look at him. "Isn't that what I just told you, Senpai?"

There was a moment of silence and she sat there with her knees curled to her chest on the blanket, an umbrella casting shade over their spot on the sand. She knew that he wasn't done - he could barely hold his tongue when it came to glasses, the obsessive idiot - and so she sat in anticipation, daring him to say a word.

He was _so_ predictable. "You look weird without them."

With a loud sigh, she stretched out her legs and pointed her toes tot the surf, willing him to look at something other than the place where his one true love would be perched on her face. She was in a bikini for crying out loud! "You're seriously unpleasant."

To her surprise, he smothered a chuckle at the dark expression on her face. "Today, I guess my bespectacled beauty is merely a beauty."

Her cheeks began to brighten with color again but she easily kept her scowl in place. "Nice try."

A smile broke across his face and he stood. "I respect your decision for keeping them safe, Kuriyama-san."

She huffed. "Is that all you care about? My glasses?"

"Of course not," he rebuffed instantly, extending a hand down to her. "I'm exceptionally fond of your glasses, but I like _you_. Admittedly, the two of you make a good pair."

She made it look like she was reluctant to take his hand, but, again, his open invitation for physical contact with her made her thrill with anticipation. Senpai was such a warm person, despite everything that he had to deal with as a half-youmu. She could feel the heat of him run up the length of her arm as he pulled her to her feet.

"Let's go for a swim," he suggested eagerly.

Mirai was glad that she'd applied the sunscreen earlier, and tried to keep her thoughts present instead of dwelling on the fact that Akihito was still holding her hand.


	2. Do You Love Mitsuki-senpai?

She didn't mean to say it. "Are you in love with Mitsuki-senpai?" The words came out fast and unwarranted, a little chilly in delivery and filled with something that sounded embarrassingly close to envy.

He paused and looked over at her, his eyebrows furrowed. Probably because she sounded like a jealous half-wit, she thought, but it was too late to take it back now. He had most definitely heard those words and…she wanted to know. Contrary to what some people might think, Mirai was a very smart girl and she saw those looks Mitsuki sent Senpai's way, saw how his cheeks would redden, the slight smirks she would wear after thoroughly flustering him.

She wouldn't blame him, of course, if he was in love with Mitsuki-senpai. She was pretty and tall, with the kind of curves Mirai knew boys looked for on girls. To boot, she was a Spirit World warrior who didn't seem cursed or bogged down by too much emotional baggage, and even with her abrasive manner, she obviously cared for Senpai at least a little bit.

Senpai frowned, seeing the thoughts flicker in her eyes, probably. "Where did this come from?"

She gaped at him for a moment before removing her glasses and wiping the lenses obsessively. "N-n-nowhere!"

He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "You're not fooling anybody."

She grimaced and placed her glasses back on her face before leaning toward him across the table. "W-well, y-y-you look like you like her, Senpai, a-and I know that she likes you so -"

He cut her off. "Mitsuki only considers me a friend, if that."

She caught his gaze, swallowing thickly. "S-so. T-that doesn't mean _you_can't be in love with her."

"Jeez," he sighed after a moment of reading her face, "where did this even come from, Kuriyama-san?"

She looked to her lap like it held all the answers. "I was just w-wondering."

"No, I don't love her, dummy," he replied, his voice teasing her. "I only love girls who look good in glasses."

She peeked at him from under her eyelashes and bit her thumbnail trying to hide her smile, and her blush. "Don't say such creepy things, Senpai."


	3. Habits

Most of the club meetings were over for the day, so the school was pretty empty. Surprisingly enough, everyone in the Literary Club had shown up today, even those that ditched regularly, and Mitsuki had pushed them all to get as much work done as possible.

Mirai had been completely and totally ignorant, and Akihito couldn't genuinely tell if it was bliss or agony, sitting so close to her during the meeting. The table in the room was small, so all the chairs were pushed together to accommodate everyone, which left her thigh pressed flush against his, her skirt riding up so that if (_when_) he looked down, he could see an expanse of her stocking-covered leg that was normally hidden to his admittedly wandering eyes.

His hands itched to touch her, to hear her sigh the way she did when he slid his palms over the shallow curves of her body, her breath in his ear, lips at his throat. To say he was distracted during the meeting was a gross understatement; even when a discussion was taking place, the only thing that could draw his attention were the expressions on her face in response to the topics at hand, how she bit her lip when she was thinking an idea over, the reflection of the light against her red-framed glasses.

They were the last ones in the clubroom; Mirai had overzealously volunteered to clean up the mess left behind. Mitsuki had offered up an actual smile at that, Hiromi commenting that she was acting the part of a precious little sister. It seemed to Akihito that his bespectacled beauty affected everyone, that though he was the one who felt electric when he was near her, Mirai's presence brought true adoration to Mitsuki's normally scowling face and pleased the perfectly blasé Hiromi. The girl in glasses was, he thought contentedly, a light in the dark for them.

She was much more than just a light _to him_, he knew, much more than something that lit and flickered and guided him. His admiration of her was no secret; why bother hiding her utter importance to him? What was the point in that? He knew good and well that Kuriyama-san had spent a majority of her life believing that she was a demon because others evaded her as best they could. If he had to spend a thousand years undoing every single one of their wrongs, just to bring ten thousand smiles she'd been robbed of to her face, he would. He'd do anything for her.

He was standing by the doorway, waiting for her as she placed the last of the club's magazines back on their shelves. Clandestinely, he was enamored with the way she stretched up on her toes to place them back in the proper spot, hypnotized as she pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth. It was a lost cause, pulling his eyes away from her; he drank the sight of her figure in as though it was the first time he'd seen her and his heart pulsed hard and strong in his chest, telling him that _yes this was the one, this was the person he would dedicate himself to_.

"I think that's everything," she said, breaking the muffled silence, turning for the first time since they'd been left alone to meet his gaze.

He stared her down unabashedly and said what he was thinking, without reserve, letting the hot rush of affection fill his eyes. "You're important."

A flash of amusement on her face and then she was crossing her arms over her chest, tipping her body weight to the side and he couldn't help but lick his lips. "I know," she said, her voice filling the space between them, "you already told me. At lunch. This morning. And about a thousand other times."

"I'll keep telling you," he said gently. "I'll keep telling you until you fully understand it." As she made to scratch at her chin with the look of exasperation on her face, his eyes followed every curve on the way up and then all the way back down, lazily, openly. She blushed.

"You're a pervert."

"If admiring a bespectacled beauty makes me a pervert, then yes," he replied, his voice a little rougher than usual. He began to walk toward her and she backed into the shadows of the bookcases, her expression knowing. Seconds later, he was pressed to her, her back solidly against the wall, foreheads touching. The only reason he wasn't kissing her yet was because she had her hands placed forcefully on his shoulders.

"You are so unpleasant," she said, but her breath was uneven as it blew across his hovering mouth. His hips dug into hers, hands low on her hips, fingers curled into the fabric of her uniform. "A-always pressing me against walls and kissing me senseless."

"I haven't kissed you yet," he muttered as one hand wandered up her slide slowly. Her fingers flexed against his shoulders and she trembled a little beneath his touch, so unbearably sensual in nature.

"_Yet _being the operative word," she huffed, pushing on his shoulders with absolutely no real force behind it. He couldn't help but grin as his hand wandered down to the hem of her skirt, running a finger along her stocking-clad thigh.

"You are too cute," he said matter-of-factly, "if you weren't so cute maybe I wouldn't have the sudden urge to push you up against a wall and kiss you senseless. Besides, you do it to me too."

"N-n-not at school!" she cried. "Anyone could walk in and see us!"

"There's no one _here_, Kuriyama-san."

"My b-bonsai trees!"

He pulled away slightly and sighed, placing his hands against the wall now. "You're right, wouldn't want to scar them for life," he murmured, preparing to step away from her. "I'm not going to make you do anything you -"

Before he could escape, she twisted her fingers into his tie and yanked his face down to hers so that she could kiss him. He gasped against her mouth in surprise before smiling and threading his fingers through her pale hair. Still gripping his tie, she pulled him forward until he was trapping her against the wall again, and their chests were pressed together tightly, both of her arms now wrapped around his neck.

"Make up your mind, dummy," he teased as she kissed the corner of his mouth.

"You're cuter when you don't talk," she muttered, twisting closer to him. His hands found her hips and he lifted her up so that she could wrap her legs around his waist.

"You're lying," he whispered moving in to kiss her jaw with the most reverent and gentle of motions.

"Through my teeth," she agreed as she tugged on his hair and sucked air in tightly when his own teeth grazed the column of her throat. Her hands caressed the sides of his face and he kissed his way back up to her jaw, where she tilted her chin and met him with an open mouth. His tongue teased hers, hands gripping her upper thighs, heat coursing through his veins like fire. Mirai always managed to set him ablaze because she had embedded herself into his bloodstream months ago; it seemed that just her blush had the potential to leave him hot and wanting. Parting from her would certainly be excruciating and detrimental.

"You really _are_ unpleasant," is what she said, though, _I love you_, is what she meant. He knew. He could hear it in the way she sighed the words across his cheek, how one hand stroked the edge of his jaw and the other tugged at his hair, how her lips met his fiercely and eagerly.

_I love you, too. _"That's my line," he breathed, hands inching higher, one of them definitely under the hemline of her school uniform. "Pushing me away and then pulling me right back in. You're always sending me mixed signals, Kuriyama-san."

She laughed against his mouth. "What's so mixed about this, Senpai?" she said and then kissed him deeply, passionately.

"I don't know," he gasped as she pulled back slightly and licked his mouth once, a smirk on her beautifully flushed face, glasses crooked across her perfect nose. She was always beautiful to him, but there was something particularly appealing about seeing her this way, in his arms with ruffled hair and hot, pink skin, her red-frames off-kilter, and knowing that he was the one who made her look like that. "I think you'll have to kiss me again," he said. "I'm still not sure what signal you are sending."

She clucked her tongue and cradled his neck, a sliver of a chill on his flesh where her golden ring met his hot skin. "Pervert," she said, before gracing him with another kiss. His hands clenched around her thighs and he pressed her back into the wall, his hips shifting against hers ever so slightly.

"Your pervert," he smirked, feeling the heat crawl under his skin, smelling her shampoo, tasting cherry-flavored candy Mitsuki had shared with her on her tongue.

"I suppose that makes it acceptable then," she announced as she kissed the smirk off his face. She was just sinking back into him when her stomach growled, rumbling against his. He laughed as he broke away from her.

Her blush burned brighter as he shook with mirth. "I'm always hungry, Senpai, this isn't anything new."

He slowly released her legs and stepped away from the wall, only letting go of her fully when he was sure that her feet were on the ground. God knows the girl could trip over thin air and he'd prefer not to collapse on top of her on the floor tonight. Well. . .not at school, at least.

A grin spread across his face. "I know. There's leftovers in my fridge if you don't have anything back at your apartment."

She looked him over once as she straightened her glasses and tugged her uniform back into place, a very factual expression on her face. "Even if I did have food at home, I don't believe I was quite through with you yet."

He smirked at her. "Who's the pervy one now?"

She rolled her eyes and fixed his rumpled sweater, his crooked tie. "Don't be creepy, Senpai."

His face softened as she twiddled with his clothing and he could not resist leaning over to kiss her forehead, lingering before pulling away. She did that a lot, he realized, touching him casually, fixing his tie. He was so glad that she was comfortable enough with him, that he could have something like this with her. Akihito knew that he was imperfect and a majority of the time, believed that Mirai Kuriyama was the best part about him.

She blushed and took his hand absently. "If we don't hurry, I might pass out from hunger."

"Hmmm, can't have that. I know how much you hate leaving things unfinished." Another smirk.

"You're unpleasant."


	4. Take off Your Tights

**A/N: **I do not own knk but I am in love with these dumb kids. This is another short drabble thing that came off of my tumblr. I hope you guys like it!

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Akihito stared down at Mirai in horror. Her glasses had been shattered, her sweater ripped and stained, blood in her hair. She was collapsed against a wall, breathing shallowly, and yet, she managed to smile up at him.

"Don't look at me like that," she said softly. "It's just the anemia."

Akihito shook his head at her; he seriously doubted she'd be so nonchalant about it if she could only see what she looked like. Her tights were torn at the knees, and he was pretty sure that was a large splinter wedged up into her skin. The red frames of her glasses lay bent out of shape, the lenses scattered into thousands of pieces on the ground.

"We should get you cleaned up," he told her. Knowing she wasn't strong enough to carry herself, he bent down and coaxed her onto his back, where he clasped behind her battered knees and determinedly pulled her in close to his back. Her arms shyly snaked around his neck and held on.

Once back at her little apartment, he set her gingerly on a chair and went to fetch her First Aid kit. He was quite familiar with where she kept it, as there were many times he'd been there to help her out after a particularly taxing job. When he emerged from the bathroom, he found her slumped over on the table with a glass of water in her hand.

Remember that she was anemic, he grabbed her a snack and placed it on the table before her before looking down with a raised eyebrow. Nevermind that her glasses were now broken; Akihito forced himself to focus on the more urgent matters on hand. There would be plenty of time to mourn the spectacles later and she always had another pair on hand anyway.

She glanced up at him tiredly, noting his expression. "What?"

"Take off your tights," he said simply.

She didn't even have the strength to be embarrassed. "W-what? Why?"

He rolled his eyes. "Do you _want_ to get an infection? I'm going to patch you up, dummy."

Her eyes wandered down to the particularly nasty wound at her knee and she sighed in resignation. "Okay. But you have to turn around."

"Kuriyama-san -"

"Turn around!"

With a hefty groan, he spun and found his ears regrettably fine-tuned to the shuffling sounds and the breathy sighs she made while struggling to get the tattered tights off.

"Okay," she murmured. "I'm decent."

He spun back around and knelt to the floor as she perched her leg up on the chair next to her. Carefully, he removed the splinter and kept his eyes strictly focused on the area of concern as he cleaned and bandaged her, trying not to let his eyes wander as they wanted to.

"Eat up," he said while working. "And then you are going to take a nap and I am going to find you another pair of glasses."

"Creepy senpai," she muttered, but her voice was warm. "Thank you for helping me."

His ears felt hot. "Anytime, Kuriyama-san."


	5. Green-Eyed

A/N: I don't own knk but I do cry daily over these dumb kids wow

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Green-Eyed

Akihito had never been the jealous type, not really. Jealousy seemed too petty to him, and he had other things to worry his time with than envying people for things he didn't have. Which meant that generally, he wasn't even jealous of everyone who wasn't half-youmu. Better him than someone else, he supposed. He wouldn't wish this curse on anyone.

Of course, none of that was the point.

The point was that, Kuriyama-san did indeed have plans after school today and none of them involved him.

Normally, he wouldn't be so bothered because, normally, plans that didn't involve him were things like youmu hunting, sleepovers with Mitsuki, or day trips with Sakura. Never before had the plans included a_ boy_ from her _class_.

Kuriyama-san regarded him curiously from across the table, eyeing the stiff way his shoulders tensed up around his ears. "Senpai?"

He was staring at her with a bit too much intensity; he knew that he was an open book as far as his emotions related to her went and it was both a blessing and a nuisance. It was obvious that he needed to push the absurd reaction to her announcement away, but he was _stuck_ on it childishly.

"What's his name?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant as he attempted to roll his shoulders down. He really came out sounding like a suspicious father.

She raised an eyebrow over a mouthful of food. "Yuuki-kun?"

Akihito immediately bristled at the familiar way she said the name. He'd known Kuriyama-san for months and the closest he'd ever got to hearing his name so familiarly from her was "Kanbara-senpai." And she'd been pissed and angry when she'd ground that out. "Oh? I've never heard of him before," he said with a bite to his words.

Her utensil scraped the last of her meal from the lunch box and her reply was just as passive aggressive. "I wouldn't expect you to, Senpai. He's not in _your_ class, after all."

He sulked. "And what will you two be doing?"

That's when she froze; the jealousy in his voice must be terribly transparent now. "It's for a class project; he's my partner for an English assignment." Her eyes scanned him and he wished, oh he wished, that he wouldn't feel this way. "What is wrong with you?"

He licked his lips and averted his eyes. "Nothing."

"You're being extremely unpleasant," she noted calmly. "More than usual."

"I have a headache," he lied. Well, it wasn't a total lie. These bitter thoughts about _Yuuki-kun_ were a headache.

"You don't get headaches," she sniffed, packing up her lunch. He had barely even touched his; had hardly gotten the chance before she'd mentioned that she was meeting up with a boy from her class after school today. It goes without saying that his appetite vanished completely.

"Certain things give me headaches," he muttered cryptically, which, incidentally, she took the wrong way. He'd be kicking himself mentally for the harsh jab later, even if he hadn't meant to direct it at her.

Outraged, she rose to her feet, glaring at him. "Well, I'm sorry for being a little concerned about you! Heaven forbid a friend worries." His jealousy ebbed away in the wake of astonishment at her outburst and the realization of what he'd said. She sighed and picked up her lunch things. "I'll talk to you again when you are ready to be reasonable."

He watched her march away furiously._ Great_, he thought, running a hand over his face.

::::::

For the rest of the night, Akihito was absolutely restless. He laid sprawled out on his couch, eyes trained on the television, but his mind very far away. The TV was an attempt to distract him but it wasn't working and soon enough, he was in kitchen with his cleaning supplies set out on the counter, scrubbing away at the sink.

Despite the envy that crawled around under his skin, a part of him was worried that _Yuuki-kun_ wouldn't treat Kuriyama-san the way she ought to be treated. She'd always had a problem with people, he knew, because she was abnormal. Did that extend to most people in the human world?

He shook the worries away, his mouth full of acid as he glared at the counter and ran his sponge over it relentlessly. Kuriyama-san was far too cute. If it was perhaps a girl, then the worries would be more real, he thought. But she was teamed up with a boy, and if Akihito knew anything about first-year boys, it was that they were enamored with cute first-year girls. He'd know; he'd been there, done that.

The apartment was spotless an hour and a half later, the cleaning supplies tucked back into the cabinet under the sink. He stood hopelessly in the middle of the room, desperately trying not to think about Kuriyama-san. What else could he do to distract himself? Nothing seemed to work; even cleaning had left his mind too open to wander.

Eventually, he found himself laying awkwardly on his couch again, his cell phone in his hand. The screen was pulled up to her number and he stared at it. What would she do if he did call? Was it worth it? She was probably still mad at him, probably would ignore the call. He bet that she was busy with her project. _Yuuki-kun_ had all of her undivided attention.

He jumped when the screen lit up, with a number that he'd only acquired very recently. Puzzled, he brought the phone to his ear. "Sakura?"

"Kanbara," she deadpanned.

"What's up? Is something wrong?"

"Mirai is fine," she replied, knowing the direction of his questioning. The tips of his ears reddened. "But she's in a little bit of a situation. For some reason, she refused to call you about it."

Far away, on the other end of the line, he heard the bespectacled beauty cry out, "Sakura! W-who are you talking to?!"

Sakura sounded distant for a moment; she must have pulled the phone away from her mouth. "Kanbara-senpai."

"S-S-Sakura! I said I d-didn't want to call him!"

"That didn't mean I couldn't."

"I don't want him to know!"

"He can hear everything you're saying, Mirai."

"Aya!" Kuriyama-san cried in embarrassment.

Sakura came back to a curious Akihito. "Sorry. Two things: Are you busy, Kanbara?"

"No," he answered much too quickly even for his own liking. Of course, he was upsettingly interested as to why there seemed to be a lack of mentioning _Yuuki-kun_. He would always sneer that name in his head, he thought for a moment.

"Sakura! Don't you dare!" Kuriyama-san yelled.

"How good is your English?" Sakura said, ignoring her friend.

"Decent," Akihito replied.

"Then Mirai will be expecting you here as soon as possible," the Inami girl told him in her flattened voice.

"Sa-ku_-raaaaaa_!"

"I'll be there," he promised before hanging up his phone. He paused to grab his jacket and his wallet before he was flicking off his lights and locking his apartment door behind him.

:::::

He stood awkwardly in Kuriyama-san's kitchen. Sakura was perched on the counter and the bespectacled beauty sat obstinately and sulkily at the small table, very pointedly ignoring his presence. There was a distinct lack of _Yuuki-kun_ in the house and Akihito had to suppress a twisted sense of relief.

"He was supposed to show up to help Mirai with their English project an two hours ago," Sakura said, breaking the pregnant silence, swinging her legs back and forth. "And he's not answering his phone."

Kuriyama-san glared at the table top. "The project is due in two days," she muttered. He couldn't be sure if all her anger was because of him, or if it was also because of her MIA partner.

"So he flaked," Akihito concluded out loud. He should not be so satisfied when Kuriyama-san was clearly upset about it, but he couldn't resist it. The relief only lasted a brief moment before he was angry and he thought that this was ridiculous. To be angry that _Yuuki-kun_ hadn't showed up after being so upset at the prospect that he'd be here. Ehhh, he needed to choose an emotion and stick to it.

"Yep," Sakura surmised. She met Akihito's eyes and gave him a strict look before turning her gaze significantly toward Kuriyama-san. Without much more fuss, she slid from the counter and stretched. "My favorite show is on TV," she announced flatly and then slipped from the room. Kuriyama-san didn't even have a TV in her apartment.

He wasn't a dummy, and he took the Inami's girl lead by taking a seat across from Kuriyama-san, softening his voice. "How can I help?"

She looked at him for the first time since he got there, her expression still pouty and bitter. He thought it was absurdly adorable. How dare she. "Are you sure it won't be too much of a _headache_, Kanbara-senpai?"

Reluctantly, he sighed and dropped his eyes to the table. "I wasn't talking about you when I said that, Kuriyama-san. I was talking about. . .that boy."

Her voice instantly lost all its sourness, instead sounding confused. "Why would Yuuki-kun be your headache?" When he peeked up at her, his face tinged pink, her face clearly told him that _Yuuki-kun_ was _her _headache.

"I. . ." He was strangely at loss for words; he'd always been so blatant and unashamed with her, but admitting jealousy seemed petty and he was afraid she'd think of him less for that. "I didn't want you to. . .spend t-time with him. I-I didn't want you to like him more than me."

Her face colored instantly. "S-Senpai!" she squeaked.

He smiled sheepishly, his blush deepening. "Heh."

She placed her hands over her face and ducked her head. "How unpleasant."

"I'm-"

"How unpleasant," she cut him off, reiterating, her face still hidden amid her pinkish hair even as she pulled her hands away, "that you would be worried over something like that." She glanced up over the rims of her glasses and his heart thumped hard in his chest. "You idiot."

"Y-yeah," he grinned through the color on his face, scratching the back of his neck.

There was a moment of awkward silence, but awkwardness had never really had a place between them so when Akihito exhaled in a loud sigh, the tension seemed to disappear and the reddened cheeks were now dusted in a slight pink. "What do you need me to do? I'll help you out with your project, Kuriyama-san?"

"W-well," she said, still trying to collect her thoughts and calm the erratic beating of her heart, "m-mostly, I need help with this paragraph." She slid a piece of paper over the table toward him.

:::::

He shouldn't have been there. It was dumb; he kept telling himself that he should just walk away. Kuriyama-san could take care of herself and put this first year boy in his place. But a part of Akihito couldn't let it go that _Yuuki-kun_ hadn't showed up or given prior notice for his absence and that irked him. Akihito was happy to see the bespectacled beauty happy, even if he didn't cause that happiness. Likewise, her frustration and her anger was his as well.

He had to do a bit of eavesdropping in the courtyard outside of the school, but he finally managed to locate a Yuuki Kabuto. The first year boy was average. Dark hair, dark eyes, medium build. There was a distinct lightness to the boy's smile, but Akihito's first impression was marred by the wrong he'd done Kuriyama-san.

"Yuuki-san," Akihito said, approaching the boy, who was surrounded by his group of friends. Yuuki-san's eyes widened in surprise.

"Hello?" he said, then noting the red tie that Akihito wore, added, "Senpai."

"Can I have a word with you?"

The boy exchanged a curious glance with his friends who patted him on the back and quickly left. He seemed intimidated by Akihito, which was rare since the half-youmu boy knew that he had such an easy-going manner that usually put people at ease. He wondered just exactly what his own face looked like.

"What's the matter?" Yuuki-san asked warily, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Kuriyama Mirai," Akihito replied, arching an eyebrow. "You're her partner in English, correct?"

Instantly, the boy paled. "Oh, man. Have you seen her around this morning? I got really sick yesterday after school and I'd left my phone in my desk," he said in a flustered rush. "I didn't have her number so I couldn't call her."

The knot in Akihito's stomach loosened and the edges of his mouth softened. So it had all been an unfortunate lack of communication and nothing more. He was relieved; as jealous as he'd felt over the boy yesterday, he didn't necessarily want Yuuki-san to be the villain. "Ah. I'm glad it was a misunderstanding," he said. "She's by the sakura trees. I think she's working on the last of your project."

Yuuki-san smiled, looking relieved. "Thank you, Senpai. I'll go explain." He made to leave before pausing and giving a satisfied Akihito a nod of approval. "You're good to look after Kuriyama-san like this. It's nice to know she has friends she can count on. She's kind of quiet in class."

Akihito had suspected that, but felt warmth in his chest at the words. He decided that Yuuki-san was definitely not a bad guy at all. "You should probably hurry before class starts."

The boy laughed and left Akihito standing in the courtyard alone.

:::::

Later that week, Kuriyama-san approached Akihito with a grin on her face, crowing excitedly about how she got top marks on her English project. Yuuki-san had lost a few points for not contributing entirely, but her grade had not suffered.

"Thank you, Senpai!" She was practically dancing.

He laughed, finding her excitement infectious. "You're welcome, Kuriyama-san."

"I'm treating you to dinner tonight," she proclaimed boldly, nudging him with her elbow. "No exceptions! Be ready at six, okay?" She bounced off with her school bag slung over her shoulder, a precious spring in her step, her glasses crooked on her bright face.

Both of them would spend the night pretending that it wasn't a date, and when Akihito kissed her cheek at her apartment door, they would fail miserably.


	6. Claws

A/N: I don't own knk but these dumb kids I s2g. I felt very sad after episode 9 so I wrote angst ha ha h ah a ;_;

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Claws

Sometimes, Akihito will catch himself staring at his reflection for much longer than even a narcissist would. His eyes fall over the curves of his face and he wonders why he can't manage to see the person that Mirai sees when she looks at him. Someone worthy of a smile, someone who makes people genuinely happy, someone that a person could fall in love with. All he sees is a monster.

When he washes his hands, he stands there with the faucet running for more than a couple minutes. He has to get the blood off. Its under his fingernails and splattered across his vision and maybe if he scrubs at his hands long enough, hard enough, then he'll be clean. Maybe he won't have tab o feel the sickening way it slides over his skin and stains his flesh. Perhaps then he can touch her face without guilt, without fear.

He thinks he can hide it from everyone. There isn't a doubt in his mind that it's worked for a long time, but that is before he met Kuriyama Mirai. He tore down her walls first, so maybe that's why he's not surprised when she notices. Placing herself between him and the mirror. Turning off the water faucet. Her hand rests at his throat so that his gaze remains focused on her and she looks up at him with those honeyed eyes through the lenses of her glasses and he is happy.

Akihito has always felt that his purpose in life was to be of use. To be as giving and unconditional as possible, as if doing so could make up for the blood that runs through his veins. He doesn't hate his parents for what he is; after all, it's not their fault. Falling in love is unconventional and often times inconvenient. They didn't ask to have a monster for a son anymore than Akihito asked to be one himself.

More recently, however, he finds himself thinking that his purpose is really tied to Mirai. She needs him; for the first time in his life, someone needs him and every time he is with her, he drinks in her presence greedily. He will never take a moment with her for granted; he knows how quickly he could lose her. How she could leave him or how he could walk away. It's selfish, but he's madly in love with her, and after chasing her for so long he can't bring himself to run.

He lays in his bed and stares at the ceiling. His hands are rubbing together in front of him and with every pass he imagines the claws of his youmu hands digging into his delicate human skin. He sees Hiroomi lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood. He sees the desolation he had left in the forest. His chest aches and his throat feels as if it is caught on a hook.

His mind is so tightly wrapped around the visions that flash before his eyes that he doesn't hear his bedroom door creek open, doesn't hear the soft sounds of padded footsteps on the carpet, doesn't feel the dip in the bed. The reverie is only broken when two small hands capture his and still them, halting their rubbing motions.

Akihito doesn't look at her right away. Instead, he stares at the golden ring on her little finger, the way her palm is swaddled in a soft bandage. She's got pretty hands, he thinks before sighing. He's even in love with her hands.

"Senpai," she says softly.

His eyes slide shut, a smile twitches on his lips. Her presence is a balm to the open sore of his thoughts. She grounds him, brings him back into the moment. He's gotten better since she came into his life; he feels less despair, feels more joy. Even though he is haunted by his ghosts, she can help him remember why he is important.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" she asks after a moment and he peels his eyes back open. Her chin is propped up on his chest, glasses askew, her feet crossed at the ankles in the air; her face is still wearing a moderately bleary expression. He reaches for her, straightens her glasses before letting the tips of his fingers slide along the cut of her jaw. Absently, he tucks her hair behind one ear.

"You're still anemic from that youmu you fought yesterday," he says and his voice is warm enough to melt butter. "A nap is good for you."

She gives him a deadpan look. "I've been asleep for four hours."

"Good."

Her eyes penetrate his mask, and he doesn't know why but he feels like crying. "I don't like it," she tells him, finding one of his hands on the mattress beside them and intertwining their fingers.

He is unable to help that his eyebrow arches and his free hand is touching her face again. "You don't like napping?"

"No, that's not it." She closes her eyes and then her hand is squeezing his with such force that it almost hurts. "I don't like you being alone for so long."

"I live by myself, Kuriyama-san."

"I don't like that either."

"Why not?"

Mirai opens her eyes again and she stares at him for a long minute before crawling forward and kissing him. Her forehead finds the crook of his neck and he can feel her breath hot on his throat. "I just worry about you."

His chest is tight, his eyes sting. "I'm sorry."

She can feel how close he is to losing it. "I don't want you to be sorry, Senpai, I want you to be happy."

"I am happy."

Her face buries in closer, hands fisting in his shirt, and she ignores his statement. "Tell me about it," she says softly. "I want to hear all about what you. . .what you feel. When you think about . . .when you think about it."

He shakes his head and casts his eyes back to the ceiling, the tears well up in the corners and slide down into his hair, but his voice remains even. "I. . .Sometimes, I feel like I'm slipping," he admits, throat thick with emotion. "Sometimes, I wonder if I'm the real me or if my youmu part is the real me. I know that what I think and feel right now is not just my imagination, but I'm so scared that it's not who I am. I wake up in the morning and I can feel Hiroomi's blood on my hands; sometimes, I can even smell it."

His breath shudders, the tears come quicker, this voice becomes tighter. "I don't want to hurt anyone else. Part of me says that I should leave town and live somewhere else, so that everyone here is safe. B-but I love living here." She pulls away and the pain on her face is palpable; he cringes because he never wanted to hurt her. "I'm so happy with you, Kuriyama-san. I don't want to. . .I'm terrified of myself."

Her hands smooth away the tears on his face, even as they are replaced by fresh streaks of water, and her own eyes begin to mist. She laughs through it. "_You_ are the real Akihito; both your human half and your youmu half. That doesn't make you a monster, Senpai." Her palm cradles his wet cheek. "You care so much," she says tenderly, trying desperately not to cry.

"I do," he replies thickly.

She takes his hand in hers and squeezes it as the first few tears roll down her face. There isn't anything she can say that is more clear than this gesture. It's all her understanding, her regret for his pain, all her worry and fear. He's suddenly sitting up in bed with his arms around her, his face hidden at her neck as his shoulders shake uncontrollably. She can feel how his tears stain her skin and she thinks that those stains might always be there. Her face is damp with her own tears but some part of her is quietly happy past the distress, because she can be here for him in the moment, when no one had been there for her.

"Senpai," she mumbles brokenly against his shoulder as she clings to him. "You won't ever hurt me, Senpai."

His hold on her tightens. "I won't," he repeats absolutely.

She laughs through her tears and kisses his shoulder. He needs this, he realizes even as he tries to calm himself. To tell someone about the dark spaces in the corners of his mind. He's glad she's here, glad that out of anywhere else in the world she could choose to be, she chose to be here on his bed, in his arms. He knows that she understands better than anyone what he's feeling, and some of his tears are for her.

Eventually, his internal disquiet turns peaceful. He sits leaning forward with his forehead on her shoulder and she runs her fingers through his hair, humming some lullaby he's only ever heard her sing. His hands tangle in the fabric of her skirt and his breathing is even, he's smiling. There is an undercurrent of happiness behind the salty tracks on his face.

"Thank you," he says softly.

"You're unpleasant," she tells him in a voice just as gentle. "You can talk to me about anything, you know. You don't have to shoulder it alone, Senpai."

"I guess. . .I guess I'm just not used to that."

"You ought to be." Her fingers press against the back of his neck and she sighs. "I'm not going anywhere."

He laughs. It feels good. His head turns and he's pressing his mouth to the column of her throat. She sighs contentedly.

"M-may I spend the night, Senpai?"

He kisses her jaw, her cheek, before flattening his lips against hers. "Please," he responds. They don't leave his bed for the rest of the night, and she falls asleep first, curled against him, their legs tangled together with her arm draped over his waist.

"I love you," he whispers against her forehead. She's breathing deep and she can't hear him, but she knows. His mouth rests against the space between her eyebrows and when he wakes in the morning, his hands are blood-free and the only thing he can smell is her shampoo.


	7. A Cloud of Steam

A/N: I do not own knk but I am in love with Akihito Kanbara idk if that counts for anything though.

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A Cloud of Steam

She's laying on his floor, playing with her newly acquired youmu stone. It's shinier and smoother than a lot of other stones she's collected before, but that's what makes running it through her fingers so much more fun. Akihito is laying beside her, both of their empty dinner plates on the table. He thinks she's close enough that he can feel the heat of her shoulder and it's distracting.

"Thank you for lunch, Senpai," Kuriyama-san says gratefully, though she's always eating his food these days. It even surprises him how often she drops in to see him at his apartment, how many nights she's fallen asleep on the couch and he's left her there with a blanket and a glass of water on the table.

"Sure," he replies, certain that they are beyond these niceties. They go through the motions anyway. She balls her hands around the youmu stone and stretches out languidly beside him; he's so aware of her that he feels as though he's pulled as taut as a steel wire. When he glances sideways and admires the way her body stretches, he catches sight of the pale, soft skin of her belly exposed to the world.

Quickly, he casts his gaze back to the ceiling. Luckily, he's had enough experience with Kuriyama-san's distracting moments that the blush almost never appears anymore.

She breathes in deeply, her chest swelling (_Is she aware how appealing she is at all?_ he thinks in distress) before her nose wrinkles and she fixes her shirt. "Senpai?" she says.

"What's up?"

"Well, I had a pretty good workout when I was taking down that youmu." She sounds embarrassed, but he's not quite connecting the dots yet. "C-can I borrow your shower?"

He props himself up on a forearm and leans toward her; he's satisfied by how comfortable she is around him. "Why don't you just go home and shower, Kuriyama-san? If you want to hang out later, you can always come back. Or I could come over."

She pulls her glasses off her face and begins to clean the lenses obsessively, darting her eyes elsewhere in the room. "Well. . ."

He can't help but stifle a laugh. She's so readable. "Let me guess. Out of soap?"

Her hands freeze and a blush spreads across the apples of her cheeks. "W-w-why would you think that?"

She's meeting his gaze quick enough to catch his raised eyebrow. "You're acting suspicious, that's why."

"I spent the last of my money on groceries for the week," she admits in defeat as she slides her glasses back onto her face. Someday, he'll do that for her. His hands ache to reach out and straighten them now.

"Ah," Akihito smiles, "that's what I thought." Unfortunately, Ayaka-san's shop was closed by now so dropping in to get the youmu stone she's holding now appraised would be more of a irritant than a welcome visit. He rises to his feet and extends a hand down to her, grinning at the adorable expression of surprise she's wearing. "You're stinky."

She glowers, but takes his hand and allows him to pull her to her feet. Something hot rushes through him when she doesn't back away once standing. "S-senpai, you're stinky too," she retaliates without thinking.

He nudges her and this time, he does straighten her glasses. "Is that an invitation?"

Her face is suddenly up in flames, glowing like a stop light. "S-s-senpai!" she exclaims in horror, slapping at his hand. It only makes her glasses crooked on her face again. "Don't be so obscene!"

Akihito shakes with mirth. "The towels are in the same closet where you keep your _entire wardrobe_," he says.

She blushes again and resists the urge to stomp on his foot. "I only have two spare changes of clothes in there; stop being unpleasant."

He places a hand on her shoulder - oh _how_ his fingers want to linger around the warm planes of her throat - and steers her toward the bathroom. A part of him thrills at the thought of her in his shower. How, when she is done, she'll smell like him. "You aren't smelling any prettier, Kuriyama-san," he teases.

She shoulders his hand off and scowls, pacing into the bathroom before shutting the door forcefully in his face. He laughs at her behavior and grins widely when he hears, "Go away, Senpai!" snap from the inside.

He does as she asks, and enters his room just on the other side of the bathroom, picking up a magazine filled with everything megane. He's hoping it'll be a good distraction from the thoughts running through his mind now; glasses have always been there for him to draw his attention, whether it is convenient or not.

For some reason, however, this time, he cannot keep his thoughts on dreams of bespectacled girls without seeing Kuriyama-san. And looking at glasses in a magazine only bring him back to her, too. He's too attuned. He can hear her clunk around in his bathroom through the thin walls; hears her shimmy from her clothing and draw her towel from the closet. His eyes stare at the papers in his hand but he is not seeing glasses; he is seeing Kuriyama-san slide the curtain back and bend over to grip the faucet.

The water starts. Akihito groans and flops back onto his bed, throwing the magazine aside with a sense of despair (how could his enthusiasm for glasses fail him at such a crucial time?). The sound of the curtain being yanked back into place comes through the walls and then he knows that she is under the spray and he is trying oh so hard not to think about it.

No matter what he does, he is all too attuned to her. He flings an arm over his face and listens to her off-key humming of a song that he remembers telling her he liked. It is agony, he decides, and he lays through it all, feeling hot and restless, feeling much too attracted and much too interested. Ten minutes later, she is turning off the faucet and he removes his arm to stare at the ceiling. This is almost worse. Now she will be standing there with drops of water sliding over her curves and settling in the nooks and slopes of her body.

He listens intently as she towels off, enraptured by the sweet torture, and stiffens when the door opens slowly. Immediately, he's sitting up in bed and watches as she emerges from the bathroom in a plume of steam and only her skirt, a towel wrapped around her very naked torso. Even her face is free of the wonderful spectacles she's always wearing. He swallows thickly and wills the sudden urges away.

"S-S-Senpai?" she asks, looking down the hall toward his kitchen.

"K-Kuriyama-san, wh-where is your shirt?" He hates that he's stuttering; he's seen her in various states of undress due to her modeling job and swim practice at school but this is so much different.

Her face burns red. "They weren't in the closet!" she cries out, holding the towel around herself closely. Water drips from her hair and rolls over her shoulders and his eyes follow them as they continue into the towel, until they settle in the dip of her collarbone. Absentmindedly, he licks his lips and she turns an even deeper shade of red. "D-don't look at me, pervert!"

His head turns away quickly and then he's standing in front of his closet, pulling out one of his middle school button ups. It'll still be really large on her, but at least she'll have something to wear. "Wear this," he says in a low, strangely rough voice. Goosebumps rise on her arms.

She inches forward to snatch the shirt out of his hands and a cloud scented of his soap envelopes him and he doesn't understand his visceral reaction to the smell clinging to Kuriyama-san. He's stunned, in fact, by how badly he wants to bury his face in her hair and run his hands across her bare shoulders and down her arms.

"Th-thank you, S-Senpai," she squeaks, seeing the hot expression on his face.

"Kuriyama-san," he says when she turns to hurry back to the bathroom. She pauses and looks at him over her bear shoulder. His eyes are fastened to her back and he tries so hard to pull them away but she's so oblivious and he's torn between laughing and kissing the hell out of her.

"Y-yes?" Her eyes are as wide as saucers and when he steps closer to her, he can see a small reflection of himself against them.

"Nice undies," he says in a voice meant to tease, and he is impressed with the control he has. Her face turns bright scarlet as she glances over her shoulder to find that her skirt is tucked into itself, revealing a pair of pink underwear with a lacy fringe.

She curses loudly with a shriek of horror and scrambles back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Akihito falls backward onto his bed with a grin, though he is experiencing a certain amount of embarrassment.

"Pink," he whispers to himself, gazing at the ceiling as if the greatest mystery in life has been solved. In a way, he supposes it has. "They're pink."


	8. Concentration

She is only doing her homework. Her mind is so full of math equations and variables that she doesn't register anything but the scratching of her pencil against the paper. . .and the heat of Akihito's thigh where it is pressed against hers. It's silly, she knows, that she is so aware of him, even after sharing so much closeness for so long, but his body is practically a siren to her and she is always drawn to him.

Therefore, when he shifts beside her, her concentration breaks for a moment and her eyes flicker sideways to watch him flip the page in his book and settle in a slightly new position on the floor, his back pressed to the couch. A rush of blinding joy surges through her, as it always does, when she sees him so content and nonchalant as his mind is stolen away by the words in the book.

He doesn't have homework, of course, but even though she's busy hunched over her coffee table with some old sitcom murmuring on the TV, Akihito offered to stay until she was done. As he always does. Someone might be inclined to call him a good boyfriend knowing this but does he even offer to help with her work?

Of course not.

"I'm bad at math!" he insisted. That would be a first; he always left her under the impression that he was good at everything. Good at making friends, good at coaxing laughter out of her, good at kissing, good at. . .other, more sensual activities.

She blushes and turns back to her math. Damn! She's supposed to be focusing!

He flips another page in his book and she's caught again by his distraction. A part of her feels like he's doing it on purpose, but there is nothing on his face that gives him away. It really is no use, is it? Furiously, she heaves a sigh and drops her pencil onto the table, pulling herself closer to him. He notices immediately and looks up in surprise. Akihito doesn't even have time to make his mouth form her name before she's kissing him.

Her fingers find a home in his hair and she tugs, drawing herself into his lap. He grunts in surprise and closes the book in his hands, pressing it against her stomach until her lips are no longer covering his.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asks, eyes glittering with amusement, a snicker hiding in the corners of his mouth.

She raises an eyebrow over the rim of her crooked glasses. "Taking a break."

He does laugh. "You just took a break. Like, five minutes ago."

"So?" Her eyes stare him down as if his words mean nothing to her.

"Mirai," he says, and goosebumps raise along her arms, "do you really think you can tell your teacher that you didn't get your homework done because you were too busy molesting your boyfriend?"

She sits back and scoffs, her face turning red. "I am _not_ molesting you."

He shakes his head. "Am I the problem? Do I need to leave the room so you get your work done?"

Grudgingly, she pouts. It would be embarrassing for him to know that he's her weakness if she didn't know that she was his.

"I'll take that as a yes."

She sighs and slides back off his lap as he shifts to stand up, pressing his lips to hers once more before rising to his feet.

"I'll go make us something to eat. Get your work done." He smirks down at her. "Perhaps I'll let you have your way with me if you finish it sometime this century."

"You're so unpleasant!" she exclaims, swatting at his knee. He dances away before she can land a blow, and slips off to the kitchen with a laugh. "I don't wanna do anything with you anymore!"

She turns back to her homework and, admittedly, concentrating on the problems are a lot easier without Akihito sitting next to her. It isn't too long before she can hear the sounds of him clunking around in the kitchen and his voice as he hums his favorite song. A smile stretches across her face. There was once a time when she never thought she'd hear his voice again, when a cold, empty shell was all she had of him. Though that time is in the past, she will still never take the little things for granted; she can't, not after knowing how easily she could lose him.

Half an hour later, Mirai is closing her math book, relieved that she has managed to do every problem, embarrassed with herself that Akihito distracted her to the point where she could barely stay away from him. He is almost always stronger at that kind of stuff - pushing away just when she needs it. At first, Mirai wondered if it was because he just didn't have the same depth of feelings for her, but that thought was banished almost immediately. How could she doubt him, after all, after everything they'd been through? That expression on his face when he looked at her? Just the way he says her name tells her everything she needs to know.

Placing her school things back into her bag at the foot of the table, she stands and follows her nose to the kitchen, where Akihito sits at the table, his nose in his book again as the timer on the stove counts down the minutes until the meal he prepared will be ready. She grins at his utter focus on the book. Has he even noticed that she's in the kitchen?

Quickly, she walks up behind him and threads her fingers through his hair. A sigh escapes his mouth and her face softens. He's never said as much, but she knows how much he loves it when she does this.

"You finished?" he asks quietly, tilting his head back so that he's pressed more firmly against her hands, which work through the blond waves gently.

"Yes," she responds. "Thank you."

He chuckles, probably aware that she's thanking him for leaving her to do her work alone, and dog-ears the page in his book before closing it and setting it on the table. "Dinner is almost ready," he says. "I made enough for Sakura, too. Will she be home soon?"

"Her club meetings run later than what we're used to," she tells him, massaging his head. "She shouldn't be too much longer, though."

"Hmm, good." He reaches back and takes one of her hands, before bringing it to his mouth, kissing the palm she always keeps bandaged. "I'll get the plates ready then."

She follows him closely as he rises and opens one of the cupboards, and she swears she can hear the smirk in his voice as she stands closely behind him, arms placed on either side, trapping him against the counter.

"Can I help you?" He sets the plates down on the counter and turns around in the small space of her arms to face her. She's right; he's smirking. And it's making her weak in the knees.

"Can you?" she offers coyly.

"Perhaps," he replies. "Depends on what you need help with."

Oooh, he knows how to press all the right buttons, doesn't he? "Just kiss me, you idiot."

He grins and bends down as she wraps her arms around his waist and rises up on her toes. His lips are warm and firm against her mouth and she's filled with such a dizzying sense of need that her knees tremble and she leans heavily on him, kissing him hard. Akihito makes a surprised grunt at the back of his throat, but then he's spinning the around, hands on her waist, and he lifts her easily and quickly so that she is sitting on the counter.

She laughs against his mouth as her hips bump against the plates, sending them into the sink and he takes advantage of the situation to slip his tongue between her lips. Her hands tangle into his hair, legs wrap around his waist, and he cups the back of her neck so that he can kiss her deeper. It's hard to remember a time when this wasn't hers, when they danced around a thin line, when kissing him was only a dream and being kissed was a fantasy. But she takes it in. She can feel him in her blood, feel the heat and the desperation and she knows that he revels in her proximity just as much as she revels in his.

One of his hands is just beginning to inch under the hem of her shirt when the buzzer on the timer rings. Reluctantly, he pulls back and she uncrosses her ankles so he can step away.

"Don't move," he says, his voice rough. It sends a shiver down her spine.

"K-kay," she whispers, straightening her glasses willing the blush on her face to calm itself. Her eyes trace over the line of his back as he bends over to open the stove. . .and continue downward, lingering, appreciative, as he grabs the casserole he made and places it on the counter on the other side of the sink. Her skin feels electric, tingling as he removes the oven mitts slowly and then approaches her again, his lips swollen and red.

She reaches out with her hand to grab his loosened tie, pulling him in until she is pressed flush against him again, his hands rubbing the tops of her thighs, his mouth landing crookedly across hers. He hums against her mouth and then his fingers begin to dance their way to the hem of her shirt. She can almost laugh at how ridiculous he is, but instead her heart swells and she holds her breath as he slips his hands beneath to touch the soft skin of her stomach.

He sighs and presses his hot palms against her waist and she breaks away from his mouth to take a breath, her spectacles askew on her face again. She squirms under his touch as he leans forward and kisses her jaw back to her earlobe, and then down the column of her throat. His hands wander higher and she's breathing heavily, her hips shifting against his ever so slightly, enough to drive her crazy.

She has just reclaimed his mouth for herself when the front door suddenly swings open. Akihito withdraws his hands like she's burned him and Mirai turns her head to see Sakura standing there with two other girls. The couple both begin to glow like a stoplight and Mirai straightens her glasses as he steps away from her, running a hand through his wild hair.

Sakura looks unimpressed - she's never walked in on them in such a compromising position, but she's seen enough - though her friends look absolutely mollified. Mirai hops off the counter and tugs on her sweater. "U-u-um -"

Akihito grins at the three girls on the threshold, sensing that his girlfriend is having trouble finding her voice. "Hello, Sakura," he says, still blushing, rubbing at the back of his neck abashedly. "I m-made dinner. There's enough for everyone."

Sakura blinks at him. "Thank you, Akihito-kun. You don't have to be so embarrassed, you know."

Mirai knows that making out with her boyfriend isn't something to be embarrassed about, and maybe with Sakura it wouldn't have been so bad, but the fact she has friends with her to see what no one else does is mortifying enough to send her to an early death.

"I-I-It's nice t-to meet you!" she exclaims, bowing at Sakura's friends. "My name is Kuriyama M-Mirai! Welcome to o-our home!"

The two girls grin at her and then there are generic introductions before Sakura is leading the two girls back to their rooms where they can put their study things. Mirai immediately turns to Akihito and buries her face against her chest.

"I can't believe that just happened," she groans into his shirt. Her cheeks are only just now losing their blush.

He grins and runs a hand through her hair, kissing the top of her head. "Wanna go to my place?"

"Do you have to sound so cheap about it?" she grumbles though she's itching to say yes.

Dramatically, he steps away and drops to one knee, holding his arms out in a grand gesture. She blushes immediately. "Mirai, I would find it extremely pleasant if you would spend the night with me."

"_Akihito_," she hisses at him, at how loud he is about it.

He chuckles as Sakura's voice floats from her room, clearly addressing her friends. "I told you so," she says. Whatever she had been telling them had obviously been proven correct and it is humiliating because Mirai has a feeling she knows exactly what Sakura is talking about.

Mirai's face flushes deeper and she grips the hem of her skirt. "_How unpleasant_!"


	9. Foolishly, Stupidly

He stares out the window, grasping at the edges of a dream that grows dimmer with every passing moment. His stomach aches, his chest aches, every cell in his body aches and he feels chilled, frozen though the air is stifling and crispy. If he closes his eyes, he can almost feel her hand gripping the sleeve of his shirt, her forehead against his chest as she takes a deep breath. And it feels real enough that heat rushes through him and he's never felt so utterly reverent in his entire life.

But it was just a dream, anyway. Kuriyama-san is. . .

He turns his eyes to the pair of red-framed glasses in his hands, which he holds as if they are made out of the most fragile porcelain. These are precious. All spectacles are important to Akihito, but these. . .these are. . .

It's self-defense when he tears his gaze away from the glasses because his eyes are stinging and there is a thick lump of emotion in his throat and if he falls to pieces now there is an absolute chance that he will never be able to put himself back together. So he keeps it in, blinks quickly to banish the tears, swallows loudly to push away the sob already rubbing his throat raw. Instead, he picks up the glasses magazine on the end table near his couch - funny, that's not where he left it - and flips it open to a page he has visited many times by default and immediately he recognizes that this is a bad idea. The pair of glasses he had picked out for Kuriyama-san's birthday are displayed in one of the pictures, his post-it note marking it for its importance. He chest seizes and white spots dance before his vision like fireflies as he manages to choke back the fractured cry stuck in this throat. His hand grips around those porcelain red-frames and he glares at the carpet. She will never have another birthday.

How could she make a decision like that and believe that he would be satisfied? He is worth nothing in the grand scheme of the world. All his existence ever brought was destruction despite how hard he tried to live a good, normal life. At least she has a purpose, at least she has a means to protect people and. . .and. . .

His eyebrows furrow, his thumb caressing the spectacles absently. He is suddenly filled with bitterness, with a hot anger that feels so similar to the despair he is well acquainted with. What about him? What is he supposed to do without her? He can't remember what life was like before he met Kuriyama-san; was there any happiness at all? Perhaps. But nothing so vibrant, so gratifying as the kind of joy she brings to him. He thinks about the things he saw in his dream, how she took the Beyond the Boundary into herself so that she would not have to kill him.

"You selfless girl," he murmurs to himself, his eyes smarting again. For so long he'd tinkered with the idea of asking her on a date. A proper one, a very not-just-friends kind of date. He wanted to take her dancing because even though she's unbearably clumsy, he could use that as an excuse to keep an arm around her. He wanted to take her to a karaoke bar, because even though she's not a good singer, her face lights up when she lets the music carry her. He wanted to hold her hand in a park and kiss her goodnight on her porch steps and taste the peppermint tea on her mouth.

_I wish you had asked sooner,_ she'd said in his dream, a sad sort of smile on her face. He begins to ache again, for all his missed opportunities. Because it doesn't matter what she is or what she does, she is the murmuring of his heart and the air in his lungs and he is madly and stupidly in love with her.

His eyes soften at the silent confession. Stupidly, he thinks, what a clever way of putting it. But isn't it true? He knows about how she came here to kill him. How when she claimed to continuously stab him for the sake of mustering the courage to kill youmu, she was really trying to murder him. Perhaps knowing these truths only make him love her more because instead of playing the part of an assassin like she originally planned, she saved his life by offering up hers. Because Kuriyama-san had the opportunities to kill him and she let them pass by.

He knows why. Akihito can see it on her face when he closes his eyes, how she looked in that dream as she rose up on her toes with her lips parted and tears in her eyes. Had he not been so shocked, he would have met her half-way. Because as stupid as he is to love her, she - the assassin, the girl who swore to take his life - is the foolish one to have reciprocated the feelings. To have loved him so much that his life took precedence over her own.

When he lifts his eyes from the rug, finally, they catch on a small corner of white paper sticking out from the pages of his glasses magazine. Abruptly curious, a weight in his stomach dropping like lead because somehow he knows that this is going to be painful, he shakes the pages until an envelope falls from between the covers of the magazine. A hard lump immediately forms in his throat as his eyes caress the word _Senpai_ written in Kuriyama-san's clumsy scrawl.

His hands tear into the paper, ripping the seal off and slipping the folded piece of parchment stuffed into the envelope. The tears are immediate and this is when he breaks.

_Senpai,_

_You're probably really mad at me. I don't blame you. I've done unpleasant things and I wish that I could be the bespectacled beauty you thought I was. I'd give anything for that chance, I think._

_I hope you can find it somewhere in your heart to forgive me, even though what I'm about to do is selfish. I know you'd pick me over yourself, Senpai, but I can't do that. I'll leave you my glasses because I know that you will take good care of them. Hold onto them for me? Maybe someday we'll meet again._

_Yours,  
Mirai_


	10. I'd Do it Again

She's weak and trembling, her hand bracing her weight against the ground as Akihito drops to his knees before her. The tears are already in his eyes, hot and heavy, as he leans forward and draws her against his chest, just as he'd been longing to do since the moment he saw her.

"S-Senpai," she murmurs, her nose pressed to his throat. He can feel wetness seeping into his shirt from where her face rests against him and then her shaking hands are gripping his jacket with white knuckles. "I missed you."

One day she'll wake up from a particularly disturbing nightmare screaming his name and finally tell him about the things she saw while she was trapped in Beyond the Boundary. She'll tell him about the lifeless shell of Kanbara Akihito, how it never responded to her, how her words fell on empty ears, how sickeningly lonely and desperate she became because of it.

But right now, he is the one who has pulled her into his arms, the one who rests his head in the crook of her neck and stains her imperfect skin with tears. He is warm and bright and alive, oh so very alive, and she is filled with such overflowing joy that her tears run faster.

"Kuriyama-san," he says in her ear, voice throaty and dark, and his arms constrict around her tighter. It's okay; she doesn't to breathe anyway, not where she is now. "I was so worried. How can I even - "

"It's okay, Senpai," she tells him weakly, a smile in her voice. "It's all over now."

"It's not okay," he spits, his eyes still foggy with tears. "You left without telling me anything. How could you - how could you think I'd be okay with. . .with what you did?"

His heart is strong in her ear; it only improves her mood further, though she is on the brink of succumbing to sleep from the anemia that curses her. "I knew you wouldn't be," she replies softly. "I couldn't kill you, so I did what I had to do."

He sounds strangled through his anger. "I could have lost you forever."

A sob chokes her. "I'd do it again," she says. "A thousand times. A million times. I'd always choose you."

His shoulders tremble as she scrunches her face back into his shirt. They don't have much more time together before they have company, before they are whisked away to a hospital to be checked over, before the entire ordeal can be closed and put behind them forever. There is something he needs to tell her thought, before they lose this moment - he's not going to squander any more time, not when he can lose her so easily.

"Kuriyama-san," he says, the tears beginning to slow as the anger ebbs and the full knowledge of her safe return begins to dawn on him. He begins to truly feel her trembling form in his arms, her warmth, smell her shampoo. "Did you. . .do you remember the dream?"

She draws away from him slightly and looks up to meet his gaze. Her face glows like a stoplight, which seems to prove that she knows what he's talking about. "S-somewhat. I-It's a little h-hazy for me."

He smiles with his wet cheeks and shining eyes because she's alive and the dream was so much more than just a _dream_. Her mouth parts as he leans down slowly, slowly, and then his lips press gently against hers and the tears are fresh on her face. She's wanted this for so long. . .

His forehead presses to hers and she sighs as they break, her breath fanning across his mouth. "What you did was seriously unpleasant," he tells her shakily. It's over, he tells himself despite it all. It's over. She's safe. It's over.

She smiles as he wipes the tears from her face and fixes the crooked black frames on her nose. "Hey," she mutters. "That's my line."


	11. Here's Your Warning

**A/N: **Ahhhhhh tis the season for christmas fics about my favorite pairing. It took me like 2 weeks to write this short little thing, so I hope it was worth it hah a. As always, i do not own knk but akihito and mirai have taken over my life. I hope you enjoy! If you have time; I'd like to know what you think!

* * *

Here's Your Warning

The lights on his mediocre Christmas tree are old and tired, though their brilliance is renewed as they sparkle against Kuriyama-san's lenses. Christmas music croons from her iPod on the small table. She seems to be content, though, her hands busy with wrapping paper and obnoxious bows that will be seeing the inside of a dumpster in a month.

Akihito sits across from her with his book propped open against his bent knees, back to the sofa. He is in the middle of the story, things are just getting good, but there is something desperately more urgent about Kuriyama-san's glittering glasses and strawberry hair than the plot of a high action fantasy novel he's been dying to read for the past three months. His eyes trace the sleek curve of her spectacles, linger on the supple line of her bottom lip.

She's humming under her breath and her tune is only slightly off-kilter from the notes the song plays. It's clear she knows every swell of the music by heart.

"_When we finally kiss goodnight_," she sings gently. Suddenly her body freezes and her face ignites in a blush, hands slipping awkwardly across a flat edge of the wrapping paper. She cries out in frustration as her skin is sliced open in the webbing of her finger and a few drops of her blood drip out, landing on the gift she was working on.

"Kuriyama-san, honestly," he says, setting his book aside and moving forward to help her.

Her blush only deepens and its odd that she refuses to look at him. "A-are you going to get me a bandage or should I just fumble around your apartment looking for one?"

He raises an eyebrow at the sass in her voice. "You'll catch more flies with honey than with vinegar."

She sighs in exasperation and this time her eyes do meet his. His heart turns funny in his chest. "What does that have anything to do with me bleeding all over your carpet?"

"It's just a - jeez, never mind." Akihito stands and leaves the room in pursuit of the desired bandage. When he returns, she's crumpled up the bloodied paper and sitting cross-legged, her glasses perched on the very end of her nose. He's absolutely mystified by her raging blush but decides to pretend for her sake. Languidly, he folds himself down in front of her. "Give me your hand."

"I can do it!" she insists, reaching for the bandage in his hand. He quickly holds it out of reach.

"Calm down, Kuriyama-san, with the way you're acting, you'll only dismember your hand with this thing," he says smartly. She stares him down stubbornly, but he's not giving in, so she finally sighs as if she is very heavy and thrusts her bleeding hand toward him.

"S-Senpai," she mutters as he moves to clean off the blood with a paper towel he brought back. He meets her gaze expectantly. "Thanks."

He shakes his head and smiles, placing the clean bandage over the cut. "Jeez. What was with your fumbling anyway? It came out of nowhere."

To his surprise, she allows her hand to remain in his grip even though she's patched up. In fact, she seems unaware of it. "N-nothing," she tells him, reaching for her glasses. The fingers on his free hand wrap around her wrist and pulls it away from the spectacles.

"There are no excuses in your glasses," he says. The music still plays in the background and her face is growing rosy again.

"It was just the song," she sighs reluctantly. "I d-didn't know that those were the words."

He stares for a moment, incredulous, before he begins to laugh. She withdraws her hands suddenly like he's been caught on fire and scowls in his direction as he tosses his head back in mirth. His entire body shudders with the sound and he can't believe how incredibly adorable she is. Freaking out about the lyrics of a song? That look on her face, with those stunning glasses of hers? Why, he could kiss her for being so wonderful!

She pouts and throws one of her bows at him as the music on the iPod changes to something upbeat. "You're unpleasant." He continues to laugh as he rises to his feet, grabbing one of her wrists and tugging her along. A little gasp slips from her mouth in surprise. "Kanbara-senpai!"

"Let's dance, Kuriyama-san!" he says energetically. She stumbles into him and then shies away, a look of pure astonishment on her face.

"I'm not going to dance with you," she says, trying to pull her wrist from him.

He holds fast, determined. "You've been wrapping presents for your friends for almost an hour now. I think you need a break, yeah?"

She huffs, and her bangs flutter under the sudden gust of air. "I don't."

Smiling, he takes hold of her other wrist and begins to sway back and forth, awkwardly gripping her hands as she stands there and stares at him. The look on her face is priceless, he thinks, especially with those glasses.

"I'm not going to do it."

"Please, Kuriyama-san?" He gives her his best puppy dog eyes.

She stares a moment longer and then sighs and looks down at her feet. "I'm too clumsy to dance, Senpai." An unsaid, _you should know this_ seems to tack itself to the end of her sentence.

He grins and shakes his head, drawing her a little closer. Her head shoots up in surprise. "You only have to worry about clumsiness when I'm not around, Kuriyama-san."

She blushes. "What are you talking about?"

"I _mean_," he winks, "I'll catch you if you fall."

Her eyes narrow, but there is a smile hiding at the corner of her mouth. He feels it the moment she is willing to dance because the tension goes out of her shoulders and she grips his hands in return.

To be honest, Akihito doesn't really know what he's doing. He's not a dancer by any means, but the music is peppy and Kuriyama-san is beautiful in glasses and he can't think of a better way to make a fool of himself. She laughs at him as he steps on her foot and nearly sends them both toppling over before catching her around the waist and bracing his weight. He holds her hand as she twirls out and then twirls in, her strawberry hair whipping around her face. When he shakes his hips in an awkward way, she laughs again.

He can get used to this, he realizes, watching her as she hops from foot to foot. She slips a little on the carpet, probably because she's wearing her stockings, but he grips her forearms quickly enough that she remains upright. She flashes him a smile and he finds himself a bit dazzled by the aura she's exuding. He manages a smile in return and then spins around in a graceless pirouette.

After a couple of fast paced songs, the next one is slower, a croon as gentle as snowfall. Bravely, he places her hands on his shoulders and smiles down at her as he allows his palms to settle against her waist.

She shakes her head, avoiding his gaze. "I knew you had an ulterior motive," she says. Its suspiciously close to teasing him. Kuriyama-san always is pretty subtle about that kind of stuff.

"You are looking particularly splendid in your glasses today, Kuriyama-san," he teases back. "I can only resist the allure for so long. I am a weak man."

She rolls her eyes but doesn't squirm out of his careful embrace. "Pervert."

He smothers a chuckle and his hands curl around her waist hesitantly, until they are resting warily on the small of her back. She is blushing, but instead of running away, as he almost expects her to do, she leans forward and rests her forehead against his chest. His face begins to grow hot, his heart sprinting in his chest as he swallows thickly around the words stuck in his throat.

They sway back and forth almost imperceptibly really, just a switching of weight from one foot to another. She's got her arms around his waist now, her ear pressed over his heart. He can't help but wonder how long this can go on before he breaks. Kuriyama-san is warm and precious in his arms. There is not a trace of doubt in his mind that she critically important, that she is a savior of sorts, even if the only one she is saving is him.

"What are you thinking about, Senpai?" she asks softly as they rock.

He blushes, glad she can't see his face. "N-nothing really."

"Oh," she says, her voice tender and small.

"Why?"

"Y-your heart. I-it's beating really f-fast."

A nervous laugh escapes him. "Well, what do you expect? A bespectacled beauty holding me in her arms. . .this is like a dream come true."

She's silent for a moment and then whispers, "A dream."

He wishes that he can say what he really means. That being held by _her _is the real dream, but somehow he feels that maybe she knows. That anytime he says "bespectacled beauty", he is addressing her directly.

"Senpai?"

"Hmm?"

"W-what do you want for Christmas?" They are still swaying to the music, even though the song has changed and the tempo doesn't match their rhythm.

"I was hoping that we could spend Christmas together," he tells her shamelessly, though he's positive that she can hear how his heart begins to sprint. "You could bring Sakura."

Her voice vibrates through his chest when she talks. "What about Mitsuki and Hiroomi?"

"They're always busy on Christmas with their own family matters." Not that either one of the enjoyed that kind of atmosphere very much in the first place. They had a strange, disconnection between their parents and their older sister that made things extremely awkward.

Kuriyama-san goes a little tense. "Who did you spend Christmas with last year, Senpai?"

He sighs, remembering how his mom had insisted on visiting, and then remorsefully cancelled a few days before. Akihito's relationship with his mother wasn't an easy one, exactly, but it would have been better than being alone when everyone else around him had a family and friends to be with. "No one," he tells her, and his voice is lonelier than he wants it to sound.

His heart flips when she holds him tighter against her. "Christmas passed without me even knowing," she says. "Everything with Yui had just happened and I was. . .Senpai? I would really like to spend Christmas with y-you."

He feels like he could burst. "I'd like that too."

"Senpai? There's something I'd like for Christmas too." She pulls away from his chest slightly and places a hand over his heart, staring at his chest. He watches her intently, waiting for her next move, too frozen by her forwardness to act. Her mouth parts and she takes a deep breath, hand clenching around his shirt.

"What is it?" he asks.

She relaxes her hand after a prolonged moment and smiles up at him uneasily. "Never mind."

But she can't fool him. He can read her eyes hiding behind the lenses of her red frames and it is as effortless as breathing, understanding her thoughts. Maybe its because they are one in the same, two lost souls who managed to find a haven in each other. Maybe it's because this is what he wants too. With a shuddering breath, he presses her closer and lifts her so that she's standing on his feet, her honey colored eyes wide and examining him, her cheeks glowing with color.

"Kuriyama-san," he says softly as he sways them in a slow circle. The music has long since fallen silent, but neither of them notice. "Tell me what you want." _I'll do anything_, he thinks. _Whatever you want, I'll make it happen_.

She purses her lips and then nestles her head against his neck. "T-This is enough."

"But it's not what you _want_."

"S-Senpai - "

"When will you understand? I'm not going anywhere," he says, holding her close his head bent so that his lips are at her ear.

She trembles. "I do understand," she replies softly. "It's just. . .hard, you know?"

"Yeah," he sighs. "But I want it too, Kuriyama-san." He doesn't say what he's thinking. That he could lose her so easily. That there are so many reasons why people wouldn't want them to be together. Instead, he holds her and waits for her reply, because he is too afraid of pushing her away.

"I'm going to kiss you," she says in a tiny voice.

_Finally_, he thinks, his stomach full of butterflies.

"When I see you on Christmas," she finishes.

He laughs as he deflates, but no, he thinks. No. Fluidly, he raises one of his hands and takes her chin before angling her head back and pressing his mouth down on hers. She squeaks in surprise but then she is clutching at his shirt and twisting her fingers into his hair and her lips are more demanding than his. He pulls away after a long moment with a gasp, his hand cupping the back of her neck.

"How unpleasant," he murmurs. "To say that and expect me to wait."

"You're the unpleasant one," she snaps back breathlessly. "Attacking me without warning."

He grins. "Merry Christmas, Kuriyama-san. Here's your warning," he says, and then he's kissing her again.


	12. Kanbara Fever

A/N: Hello! **This chapter is rated M** because it's basically just making out and doing unspeakable things in a shower. It's not really descriptive b/c that's not how I do smut really but if that's not your cup of tea, then you can just ignore this update .

I don't own knk but I cry daily over these dumb kids bye

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Kanbara Fever

He's always touching her, in some way. Most of the time, he seems unaware, but Mirai is hyper-sensitive to his proximity and when his hand rests against her, she feels electric. Her blood hums with energy and she wonders how on earth her live-wire status is not frying the entire world into a catastrophe of flames and ashes.

It's always worse when he kisses her. There never seems to be enough air and the way she craves him is more dangerous than any addiction she could form. His mouth is hot and needy, his hands desperate and she returns the fervor with as much eagerness as his, pressing herself closer, twisting her fingers into his yellow hair.

He smiles crookedly at her with his caramel eyes, his hand touching the small of her back and she knows absolutely that she's caught a case of the Kanbara fever and it may be chronic. Perhaps incurable.

The disease seems to get worse with every passing day, naturally. Right now, her temperature is running high, his hand pressed to the skin of her stomach, shirt shoved up to expose her ribcage. She hooks one of her calves over his, trapping him. Maybe if she can just learn to endure the heat then she can overcome the ailment.

No she's wrong. He slips his hand over the top of her bra and she gasps against his mouth. There is no beating this kind of illness - the fever will burn her for as long as there is breath in her body and yet, she thinks that it may even follow her after.

"A-Akihito," she mutters as he kisses the hinge of her glasses then roughly presses his mouth to the corner of her lips. "I-I-I'm serious. I need t-to - _oh_ - I n-need to shower!"

"T-that's such a waste of time," he grinds out, sliding his palm back over her bra. Her back arches, the air leaves her lungs in a sudden gust. He knows exactly which buttons to press to make her fall to pieces instantly. She's burning up. "Why don't we just skip dinner?"

"W-we're not skipping dinner," she snaps breathlessly, her hands tangled in his hair. She wants to push him away, but she's only pulling him closer, encouraging him. Why do they always end up like this on the floor of her apartment? "Sakura is - _ahhh_ - she's counting on - _Akihito_."

She can feel him smirking where his face is hidden against her neck, his hand curled into her between her legs. Her skirt and her tights are keeping his fingers out of the heat pooling down there, but still a dense warm feeling grows at the pit of her stomach and she sighs his name breathily.

"You're being lewd," she accuses him strictly as he pulls back to find her expression. Her eyebrows are drawn in sharply and she looks cross, but her body is straining towards his and he can feel how her hips are shifting under the weight of his wandering hand.

"How so?" he raises an eyebrow and dares her to tell him that she isn't enjoying herself.

Her face flushes and she knows she's been cornered, though she refuses to let up. She is just as stubborn as he is, after all. "You know perfectly well how so," she says, retracting her hands from his hair and pushing against his chest. "There is plenty of t-time for this later."

He stares at her for a moment longer but she sighs in relief when he pulls his hand away and rolls to the side, laying on his back with his eyes cast to the ceiling. He's breathing heavy too, she notices, gaze falling over his flushed cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. "You're right," he amends, turning his head to smile at her, and he looks ridiculously adorable with his hair a tousled mess. "We do have the rest of our lives together, don't we?"

Her heart seizes in her chest from the happiness that steals over her, and she stares at him like she's seeing the sun for the first time. Even when he's not touching her, she still burns. "Yeah. That's right."

After a moment he clears his throat and gives her a cheeky smile. "Go shower then. You'll keep Sakura waiting."

She reaches to swat at him with a scowl, but he catches her wrist because this scene has happened too many times before and he knows her every move before she even makes it. "How unpleasant," she insists.

"Truly," he agrees with a grin.

"Ugh." She yanks her hand away from him and rises to her feet, stomping away. "Please make yourself presentable while I'm showering. I don't want to show up and have your hair looking like that."

He sits up and stares after her retreating form. The confusion on his face is adorable coupled with the way his hair stands on end, looking teased and tousled. "Like what?"

She pauses before disappearing into the bathroom, her face rosy. "Like we w-w-were being lecherous before dinner!"

A devious look passes over his face, one that sends a shiver down her spine and she wonders, oh she wonders, when he became so unbearably attractive."But we were being le -"

"Unpleasant!" she crows and then disappears into the bathroom, shutting the door forcefully behind her. Quickly, she strips out of her clothing, places her spectacles on the counter, and turns on the faucet. She tries to focus on what she should wear, the full day of youmu hunting she has lined up for tomorrow, the things on her grocery list that she needs to buy as soon as possible but her mind is stuck on Akihito's mouth and his fingers and suddenly she's burning again. The heat of the water hardly phases her. Her legs feel watery, her head light. If she didn't love him so much she'd hate him for turning her into someone so indecent.

She opts to ignore it, all of it, and steps under the spray of the shower, pulling the door shut behind her. After all, Mirai likes to pride herself on someone who has gotten rather good at hiding her ridiculous craving for Kanbara Akihito. The megane enthusiast knows full well the extent of her desperation when it comes to him, but he has absolutely no room to tease, not when the weight of her hands can bring him to his knees.

So wrapped up in distracting herself, she does not hear the bathroom door when it opens or closes. Or the soft sound of fabric hitting the tiled floor. She does squeak in surprise, however, when there is a tapping on the shower door and she whirls to see Akihito standing on the other side of the foggy glass as absolutely naked as she is. He's grinning at her, but the tips of his ears are red - probably in embarrassment; he's as addicted to her as she is to him - and the expression on his face is more bashful than confident.

She watches as he traces his fingers over the foggy glass, drawing two familiar shapes before connecting them with a little bridge. Of course he would draw glasses on her shower door; of course he would. He's smirking as she leans forward toward the picture of glasses and glances out of them, her heart in her throat, her body aching at his proximity. In frustration, she frowns at him and sticks her tongue out. "I t-told you to make yourself presentable," she says loudly over the spray of the water. "Honestly, you are such a pervert."

"I know," he replies with the same volume to his voice, not looking at all ashamed of himself. She loves that about him though, that he's not afraid to own up to his short comings, that he's completely comfortable saying what he thinks and doing what he feels is right. "Are you going to let me in or not?"

She shouldn't, she knows. But the warmth between her legs has only become stronger with him standing here in front of her and she's weak, so weak. With a hefty sigh, she opens the door and steps back under the water, allowing him into the small, steamy space. He's got a heavy-lidded look on his face, his mouth parted as he gazes at her with his caramel eyes, full of promises she nearly begs for him to keep. Between the intensity in his eyes and the heat of the steam, Mirai feels hazy and dizzy and all too willing.

"W-we h-have to leave in an hour," she mutters turning her back on him and ducking her head under the hot water. She feels how it flows over her back and holds her breath as she waits.

He doesn't disappoint; after all, he can hardly keep his hands to himself for more than a minute at a time, whether he recognizes this or not. "Then we shouldn't waste any time, yeah?"

She laughs as his hands skim over her hips and reach around to press against her stomach. Her back flattens against his chest and she feels hot and impatient. "Always got your eye on the prize, don't you?"

His lips trace the shell of her ear. "You're more than a mere prize, Mirai."

Shivering from the tenderness in his voice, she spins around and shoves him back until he is up against the wall. Her wet hands tangle into his dry hair and she's scowling at him, her face glowing red because he is so incredibly cheesy and it still manages to fluster her.

"If you came in here to do un-un-unspeakable th-things to me, then y-you should get to it," she declares.

He grins as she presses herself up on her toes, her eyes fixed on his mouth. "Eye on the prize, eh?"

Her ears even turn red. "Shut _up_."

"How unpleasant," he laughs and then kisses her firmly. Right away, he is relentless and she thrills at how his tongue tastes electric like excitement and sweet like adoration. Her hands slip over his skin, feeling the dents and slopes of his slender frame, pausing at the hips before reaching lower. He groans into her mouth and steps forward when she touches him, putting both of them under the direct spray of the showerhead.

"Wash my hair for me?" she mumbles against his lips. He pulls away fractionally to see a devious smile cross her face, a giggle erupting from deep in her throat. "M-m-my hands are busy, you see."

She watches the words he can't seem to form flit through his eyes and then he's reaching for her shampoo and she's moving her hands slowly, stroking him carefully. The noises he makes make her feel squirmy and restless on the inside, the gooey feeling at the pit of her stomach growing. Sighs slip from her mouth as he massages her head and moans slip from his as she massages him. He runs his fingers through her hair until the soap is gone and then he pulls her mouth back to his.

"My turn," he murmurs at her ear, easing away from her hands, pressing her shampoo bottle against her chest. She opens it up and lathers the soap before scrubbing at his hair, biting down on her lip hard as he bends to her chest and begins to place kisses there.

Mirai doesn't have much as far as breasts go, but Akihito gives reverent attention to both with his mouth and his hands. She groans even as she chews on her lip, her hands working furiously through his hair. The unbearable heat in her stomach grows warmer and as one hand wanders down her stomach, she slides her legs open slightly, only slip dramatically on the soapy water as it rushes down the drain.

She squeaks and he yelps, but they both manage to stay upright as he pins her to the wall. After the moment of surprise has passed, he presses his face to her neck and laughs, his body shaking against hers.

"I should have known seducing you in the shower could result in injury," he teases.

When she bites his shoulder, she means for it to be a reprimand but he groans loud and hard and all the darkest parts of her body light up. Her fingers twist into his soapy hair and then she digs her teeth against his neck gently, absolutely thrilling at the long sound she draws out of him. Oh yes, she can definitely get used to this.

"It's time to rinse y-your hair," she says with her mouth pressed to his ear. He responds in kind by biting her back, the place where his lips had been resting at the crook of her neck. She gasps much louder than she means too and scrabbles to pull herself closer. "_Oh_."

They take a small step back, and she combs the shampoo out of his hair while he begins to soap up her body and runs his hands along her curves. Her knees tremble and she grips his shoulders as he palms the inside of her thigh and then presses upward, caressing a button that immediately causes her to squirm against his hand. She finds her forehead against his clavicle, breathing hard in the steamy space.

"Akihito," she whispers, so shakily and quiet she is sure that he can't hear her. He moves his hand against her, fingers exploratory and she squeaks. "_A-ahh_."

He groans. "Jeez, you're so cute when you make those noises."

"How lewd of you," she gasps, grinding her hips.

"Hmm," he replies, pressing his lips to the wet hair at her temple. He moves his fingers a little faster against her and this time, Mirai slips simply because she cannot stand any more. She laughs shakily as he lands on top of her, banging her head against the wall of the shower as his face becomes pressed to her chest.

"S-sorry," she stutters as she grabs his head and yanks his head toward hers, kissing him deeply. She'll have bruises, and she'll probably have a sore time walking because of her clumsiness, but right now all she feels is the heat of the Kanbara fever and her legs are desperate to clamp around him, to trap him against her until this ache has been satisfied.

He moans against her eagerness, his body rubbing against hers in tandem. "M-Mirai, wait," he says, trying to retract his mouth.

"N-n-no," she mumbles, wrapping her arms around his neck, bucking her hips. A sensitive spot is hit. She gasps.

"Let me stand up, idiot," he gripes, hands wandering greedily over her slick skin. He sounds frazzled, on edge and when she arches her body against his again she can feel just how aroused he is. It only makes her want him more desperately.

"I'll only slip again!" she cries in frustration, rocking her hips against his. The water from the shower is hitting her face as she stares up at him. His eyes are so wide and full of indecent intentions, she thinks and oh how she wishes he would act on them already.

He says something harshly under his breath, too quiet for her to hear over the sound of the running water, but it doesn't matter when he's leaning back and yanking her to her feet, his mouth hard and wanting against hers. Her hands dig into his shoulder blades, the flat expanse of his back as he towers over her, keeping the water from her face as he nudges her legs apart with his knee.

"Mirai," he grinds out, his forehead flush against hers.

Her hips strain toward him and she trembles violently when she can feel the length of him pressed against her. Then, he's kissing her, sucking on her bottom lip, and she cries out against his generous mouth as he pushes into her, her body sliding against the wet wall of the shower. She giggles a little - just as she always seems to do when they are together like this, regardless of circumstance. At first it had made Akihito wonder if he was doing something wrong, if it didn't feel as good for her as it did for him, but those thoughts were banished almost instantly.

She clutches him close to her, reveling in how good his weight feels against her, how perfectly happy she is to be trapped between the heat of his skin and the wall. Her back arches into him, urging him to move inside of her, and he wraps an arm around her waist, gripping her hip for leverage as she braces the rest of her weight at her shoulders.

Akihito places a forearm against the wall near her head, his forehead relying heavily on her jaw as her hands scrabble against his slippery skin and he moves his hip rhythmically against hers. The mews and cries spilling from her mouth drive him crazy, his blood is boiling. She can feel the charge in the air, how this craving to be even closer is swallowing her whole. In and out, he moves, steadily, eagerly and her hands grip him as soundly as she can while she moves her hips against his.

She's so hot that she can't breathe. Her lungs strain for air as she huffs against his wet hair. It gets worse as he lifts her leg and shifts his hips slightly, sliding deeper inside of her with each thrust, pressing against sensitive spots that make both of them moan. Her hips begin to lunge more frantically with his and her cries get louder, her nails digging into his shoulders. The noises that their bodies are making are horribly indecent but she urges them on, her desperation growing every second.

Akihito grunts and bites down hard on his lip when he feels her tighten around him. She's so close to the edge.

"_Ahhhh_," she moans. "Y-y-you're slowing d-down."

He thrusts against her evenly, languidly, feeling his knees tremble under him as she squeaks and he purposely slows himself.

"_Akihito_." Her voice is a demand, full of frustration, as she bucks her hips against him.

His lips press to the wet skin of her cheek, the corner of her mouth, as he moves again, and again, and again. She holds him closer as their bodies begin to move of their own accord and she is crying his name out again, this time in a wave of absolute bliss.

He buries his face against her chest as he rocks frantically against her and finally reaches his own release. She allows him to catch his breath before kissing him again, this time short and sweet, her hands gentle against his face. They spend a few moments with their lips working lazily against each other until Akihito pulls himself away and reminds her that they have a dinner to get to.

"Of course," he says when remembrance fills her face, "we could just ski -"

She elbows his gut as they soap up and rinse off their bodies, still hazy from their fit of passion. "We are _not skipping dinner_," she snaps.

He merely chuckles and turns off the faucet. Her temperature still seems to be running higher than it should as they dry off and get dressed, but that probably has something to do with his relentless kisses and the very warm compliment he gives her once he sees the dress she's wearing.

"You're beautiful," he says, eyes like melted caramel.

She fixes her glasses and blushes. "I g-guess you have pleasant moments, Akihito."

"You're supposed to tell me I'm pretty too," he teases her.

"'I'm pretty too'," she quotes slyly, with her usual deadpan look.

He merely laughs and gathers her against his chest. She still feels so hot, especially so close to him. "I love you," he murmurs seriously.

She sighs contentedly and loops her arms around his waist, holding him close. "I love you, too," she whispers back. Her face floods with color as he kisses the top of her head and rubs a tender hand over her back.

Kanbara fever, indeed. It's one hell of an untreatable illness, she decides, though she's proud to say that she is the only one in the world to have contracted the disease.


	13. Keeping Me Crazy

A/N: they fight about stupid things and neither wants to give in first, but kuriyama-san has found a way to exploit her senpai's weakness. this doesn't even have a plot i m soryr i just word vomited. i don't own knk sobs

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Keeping Me Crazy

Kuriyama-san wants to torture him.

That's the only possible explanation he can come up with, the only thing that makes sense really. Akihito sees her motive with crystal clarity - after all, she is pretty upset with him. Not like he did it on purpose! He was just worried about her and she was being stubborn and unnecessarily independent as usual. At first, he was angry too. Fine, he wouldn't care about her anymore and she could go get herself into trouble. _Whatever_.

It's hard to remember the anger though, with the way she's been playing with her glasses.

They'd been ignoring each other in an obnoxious way, deliberately, even while in the same room as each other.

"Mitsuki, will you please tell Kuriyama-san that she is reading too noisily."

Mitsuki, ever jumping at any opportunity to tease Akihito, was clearly on Kuriyama-san's side. Additionally, she'd claimed openly that he was "a pervert who deserved it" before later insisting that the both of them were "being ridiculous." Honestly, if anyone was being ridiculous, it was Kuriyama-san.

"Mitsuki-senpai," Kuriyama-san would sniff back without giving Mitsuki a chance to relay Akihito's message, "would you please tell Kanbara-senpai to leave the room if my noisy reading _worries_ him so much." She intentionally thumbs through the pages of the book open in front of her as loud as she can.

Mitsuki merely pops her sucker into her mouth and studiously ignores the both of them. Opting instead to read through one of the older stories for their Literary Club activities. Akihito grits his teeth. "Mitsuki, tell Kuriyama-san that she's being an unreasonable pain in the -"

"Mitsuki-senpai!" Kuriyama-san nearly shouts. "Tell Senpai he's being unpleasant!"

Mitsuki flips through a page and startles both of them when she casts a cage around herself. Slowly, she taps at her ear, not being bothered to make eye contact with two difficult, sexually frustrated teenagers - who, in her opinion, needed to make up and make out already - in order to tell them that the cage was sound proof.

Akihito takes it in stride, turning to look directly at Kuriyama-san, to tell her off himself, but the harsh words die in his throat when he sees her leaning back in her chair with an outraged expression, exhaling onto the lenses of her glasses before wiping them clean. He suddenly can't seem to remember what he was thinking, what day it is, how to say his own name. If she's ever done something like this with her glasses, it had never been in his presence.

She looks incredibly attractive. Not that he didn't always think she was cute, but he is, undoubtedly, a megane enthusiast, and there is something obscenely sensual about her perfect, pretty mouth fogging up the lenses of her perfect, pretty spectacles. Is he really mad at her? What for? The only thing he can feel himself being upset about right now is that she is seven feet out of his reach and far too kissable for comfort.

She must feel his eyes on her because she chances a glance at him, raising an eyebrow with her lips puckered furiously, expecting him to be glaring at her. Slipping her spectacles back onto her nose, his expression becomes clearer and she hides her astonishment well at the open shock on his face, the heated appraisal in his caramel eyes. What in the world? Kuriyama-san tears her eyes away from him and glares at the tiles under her feet, abruptly understanding.

He's not looking at her like that because he's suddenly realized the errors of his ways, that's for sure. My glasses, she thinks grumpily, he's enamored by my glasses. Part of her is disgruntled, of course, because he is head over heels in love with her spectacles. However, another part of her begins to smirk with the renewed realization that as long as she is wearing them, he is at her mercy.

As a test, she reaches up and pushes the bridge of the glasses to her nose, glancing sideways at him (with an obnoxious cotton candy color staining her cheeks - ugh! Months as his girlfriend and she still gets unbearably flustered!).

He shivers slightly, finally tearing his eyes away from her with a wide eyed expression. She smirks and noisily returns to her book. Success!

Mitsuki can't hear what's going on, but she pauses her reading long enough to note the exchange between the spirit world warrior and the half-youmu boy. She pops the sucker out of her mouth and sighs at how embarrassing the both of them are, how stupid they are about each other. For once, she wishes Hiroomi hadn't skipped the club meeting, if only to offer her a distraction from the petty drama in front of her now.

::::

Kuriyama-san is relentless. It's only been two days since they fought, but now it seems that she's utilizing his weakness and his arms are love-starved and desperate to wrap around her delicate little frame. He wants to kiss her. When this whole thing finally blows over, he is going to kiss her. Long and hard and greedily because he's already refrained from touching her for two days and he's going mad.

It would be easy to give in; she crumbles when he gives her the puppy dog look, kisses the corner of her mouth and says her first name reverently under his breath. As much as he'd like to do that, he's still upset that she disregards herself too simply. It's even sillier that, this entire mess isn't because he worries about her, but because she is mad at him for worrying. Why _should _he be the first to apologize? He's never sorry that he cares.

Akihito honestly never thought he'd see the day when he wished someone would take those glasses away from her but, jeez, is he ever in misery.

She sits across from him now in the clubroom, the curved end of one side of the glasses between her teeth as she reads - noisy as ever - a stack of previous club-issued stories. He knows that she's doing this on purpose; pressing her spectacles against her teeth like this, against her lips. His hand has been running a track through his hair for the last half hour and he's sure it looks like he's just rolled out of bed.

Mirai smiles slightly around them as she pretends to read words she can't necessarily see without the spectacles. Senpai shifts every couple of seconds, restless and uncontainable, and she feels that she's just minutes from victory. To be completely honest with herself, she can't even remember why she was so angry at him in the first place, but watching him squirm is entertaining. She's not entirely sure that she was completely in the right to be so upset; she's had time to think about it, to cool off. Wasn't he just worried about her?

Still, she continues to tease him, because it's fun. Deftly, she worries the tip between her teeth and glances up under her eyelashes to see him slouched back into his chair, staring off into space. She knows how stubborn he can be - he won't apologize first no matter how much agony he's in.

Mitsuki is obviously absent from the room - she told Mirai and Akihito at lunch that she had clan duties to attend to after school, but Mirai is pretty sure she just doesn't want to be caught in the middle like yesterday. She's right, of course.

"K-Kuriyama-san."

He says her name like it's his favorite word. She slips her glasses back on, biting back the satisfaction that he looks extremely flustered.

She says nothing, merely looks at him.

"I think we ought to talk about this," he says.

"Talk about what?" Her eyes are wide and feigning ignorance successfully behind those red frames. He thinks it's hot in the room. Makes it hard to breathe, to keep his train of thought on track. At least she doesn't sound angry anymore.

"Talk about. . . uh, talk. . about. . .?" he trails off as she adjusts the glasses on her face.

Kuriyama-san tilts her head slightly and something in his stomach trembles when he suddenly feels the toe of her shoe pressed against his. "I think you should go home, Kanbara-senpai. You look upset."

"Upset," he mouths, staring. "I'm not upset?" He's confused, to say the least. Isn't she supposed to be mad at him? Why is she smiling at him like that?

"Right then," she replies, sighing a little, biting her lip. "Maybe now is the time to tell you that I'm sorry I worry you."

He blinks slowly. "What?"

"Honestly, Senpai," she sighs heavily, sliding her foot along the inside of his before tapping against his ankle with her toes. Deftly, she leans forward on the table and runs her fingers along the side of her glasses. "You should probably listen better when I apologize."

He seems to regain his dignity with that statement but his eyes are glittering now and his gaze feels hot. A shiver races up her spine. "Apology accepted," he says, his voice raw.

She draws her foot away from him and sits back, gripping the edges of the chair with her fingers as her stomach trembles. "Aren't you going to apologize, too?"

Akihito's face stretches into something of a smirk, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Nope," he says. "The last thing I will ever be sorry for is caring about you." He glances away from the blank expression on her face to stare at her bonsai lining the shelf in front of the window. The sunlight streams in, warm and orange. Out of the corner of his eye he can see how it glimmers against the lenses of her glasses.

He tries to hide his smile when she throws a leg over his lap and straddles him, her hands pressed to his chest, her cheeks a pretty shade of red. "I don't like fighting with you," she says in a small voice.

He turns to look at her, runs his hands along the tops of her stocking-clad thighs. "Then don't."

She pouts at him and furrows her eyebrows. "You're stubborn so I can't help it."

"You're stubborn too," he points out licking his lips, eyes appraising her. It feels good to feel her warmth under his hands again, to feel her solidly here with him. He curls his fingers into her thighs and groans low under his breath, hearing how her own breathing hitches. "You've been driving me crazy."

Kuriyama-san smiles through the blush growing more rosy by the second. "I know. You aren't very subtle, Senpai." She runs her hands down his chest and rests them near his hip joint, pressing there, leaning forward until her nose touches his. "Your perverted-ness is obvious."

He grins but on the inside his blood is boiling and he can't take his eyes off her supple little mouth. "I _am_ a pervert," he declares in a voice as smooth as the caramel in his eyes.

She rolls her eyes as he pulls her body closer until she is flush against him. "You're absolutely unpleasant," she whispers and slants her mouth against his, finally. Her glasses ride high up on the bridge of her nose as he parts his lips and runs his tongue along the seam of hers. He's wasting no time; he tilts her head with one hand at the back of her neck and kisses her down the length of her throat.

A sigh escapes her as she runs her hands over his shoulders. "I-I-I ought t-to t-tease you more," she says breathlessly, biting her lip. His other hand toys with the hem of her shirt and she swats it away. "D-don't be dirty! We're a-a-at school!"

"Then let's go home," he mutters against her chin, the corner of her mouth, her lips.

She scoffs and sucks on his bottom lip, drawing a moan from his mouth, cradling his face with her hands. He can feel the cool sliver of her ring against his cheek. "Lecherous," she murmurs.

"Mmm," he agrees and curls his arms around her waist. "And you're a walking contradiction." He pulls away slightly and she fixes her glasses, sending a new wave of excitement coursing through him. "'Senpai, you're dirty!' she says as she wraps her legs around my h -"

Her face glows bright as a stoplight as she presses her fingers over his mouth. "Shut _up_!"

He shakes with mirth and parts his lips to run his tongue over her hand, humming appreciatively. She yelps in surprise and pulls away, burying her face against his neck in embarrassment, her glasses digging into both of them.

"Why do you tease me like this?" she laments dramatically. If the subject wasn't her sex life, she'd be posting about his unpleasantness on her blog.

His mouth presses to her hair, his hands rubbing her back. "It's because you're cute," he insists.

"It's not fair!" She plays with his tie. "When I tease you all you do is kiss me senseless!"

"That's because I have no shame."

"You're a pervert," she reiterates.

"Exactly."

Mirai leans away from him and stares at his chest, her brows furrowed, mouth puckered in resignation while her glasses sit low on her nose. Her small hands slide back down his chest again and curl into his shirt at the hem. Akihito watches in amusement as her face grows more red. "T-Take me home, Akihito," she mutters.

"I'll do more than take you home, bespectacled beauty of mine." He winks and kisses her hard before allowing her to slide off his lap. She smacks his shoulder for being lewd (though she probably won't stop him once he crosses the threshold of her apartment, honestly) but goosebumps race up her arms. Her heart has belonged to him since the moment he smiled at her amid the cherry blossoms. Happiness swells in her despite the abundant embarrassment.

"Don't make me mad at you again!" she says as he stands up next to her and grabs both of their school bags. "Or y-you won't be doing anything with me!"

"Yes, Kuriyama-san," he says gently as he takes her hand. He doesn't want her mad at him again - not after the torture she inflicted upon him these past two days. "How about dinner?"

She leans into his side as he leads them both from the room. "Will you cook something?"

He smiles. "Sure."


	14. Trivial Titles

A/N: Mirai is back from Beyond the Boundary and its time to define their relationship uwu. I don't own knk!

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Trivial Titles

"Mirai, there's an upperclassman looking at you," a girl named Nanami whispers, nudging Mirai with her elbow. The classmate had always been friendly with Mirai, even picking up conversation again with her despite Kuriyama mysteriously reappearing last week after several weeks' of unexplained absence. Hiroomi had pulled some strings on that one; she was back in school and no one asked any questions.

Mirai glances up from where her hands are shoving books into her bag to see a boy with a head full of blonde cowlicks and a smile that rivals the sun. He leans against the wall just outside her classroom with his hands in his pockets, eyes zeroed in on her bespectacled face.

"I suppose there is," she says, smiling at him from across the room, fighting back a blush. He makes everything so obvious, she thinks, and if it wasn't so endearing, the embarrassment would be overwhelming.

Sakura sits on her desk and crosses her ankles, looking disinterested. "Kanbara is Mirai's boyfriend."

"Sakura!" Mirai exclaims, giving into the heat on her face. Nanami's mouth pops open in surprise and one of the other girls cleaning up her supplies for the day migrates towards them curiously.

"Unofficially," Sakura reiterates in a completely blasé tone.

"Unofficially?!" Nanami leans towards Mirai with an awed expression. "What does that mean?!"

Mirai closes her bag and reaches for the glasses on her nose, wiping the lenses furiously. Through her blurry vision, she can make out the subject of their conversation peering on expectantly as if to say _yes, Kuriyama-san, what does that mean? _She puckers her lips in a fit of brief outrage (he has no right to look so amused!) and then slips the lenses back onto her face.

"It means he hasn't asked me to be his girlfriend," Mirai informs them with a flutter of satisfaction. Ha!

Unaware that the conversation was reaching so many ears, nearly half of the students still in the classroom look toward the doorway where Kanbara Akihito leans, stock still, absolutely surprised. He's quick under pressure though, and shameless enough to recover quickly. His smile is back in full force and he raises a hand to beckon to her.

Sakura slides from the desk and pushes pink-cheeked Mirai toward the door.

"Sakura!"

"I want to go home," Sakura replies, though Mirai is certain that the Inami girl and Senpai have some sort of conspiracy theory to embarrass her as much as possible.

Akihito smirks as he takes her hand once she's in reaching distance and pulls her into his chest. Sakura salutes him and tightens her grip on her school bag. "I leave her in your care, Kanbara."

He grins at her over the tangle of Mirai's strawberry hair, who cringes against him, her face burning, still feeling the eyes of the lingering students on her. "I'll see to it she gets home safe and sound, Inami-san."

The violet-eyed girl pulls a bag of pretzels from a pocket in her bag. "Your home or our home?"

He laughs, but is helpless to the heat that rises up his neck. Sakura always had a way of flustering him, but she's honest and cuts to the chase, and he's used to this sort of teasing since he is bombarded by Mitsuki day in and day out. "She'll text you," he says shyly.

"S-S-Senpai!" Mirai exclaims, drawing herself away from him, glowing brightly with embarrassment.

Sakura merely opens her pretzel bag and begins to snack as she walks away. "M'kay."

Akihito glances to the side to see that they are still being ogled and smiles nervously at the first years before taking Mirai's hand (holding it gently, because sometimes he's still afraid that if he holds her too close she shatter into a thousand shimmering pieces again) and pulling her down the hall toward their club room. She stares at the floor, her heart pounding in her chest as her curtain of hair shields her face, which matches the red of her glasses.

When he speaks, his voice is low and soft, something tender and fragile and her breath seizes because she is falling in love with him all over again when he talks like this. "I didn't think you cared about trivial titles like boyfriend and girlfriend, Kuriyama-san."

"T-t-trivial titles?" she stammers, her eyes darting up to look at him. He pulls her around a corner and then her back is pressed to the wall and he's leaning over her.

His expression is nervous, eyes warm like coffee and her hand tightens over the strap of her bag. "I was under the impression we were much more than that," he says gently, anxiously.

She swallows loudly, peering up through the lenses of her glasses. Her eyes are like sundrops, he thinks, and he is blinded as the light pours from her.

"But," he continues, struggling to find words under the intensity of her gaze, "but I'll call you my girlfriend, if you'd like."

She has to admit, there is something both strange and thrilling about referring to Akihito as her boyfriend. "You j-just want to gloat about having a girl in glasses date you," she accuses teasingly, dropping her eyes as her heart races.

He grins. "I wouldn't be living up to my name if I were to choose anyone else," he vows, but there is something very warm about the way he says it.

"I get the short end of the stick," she complains, pressing back into the wall. "A boyfriend who is a proven pervert. I have the worst luck!"

Akihito thinks he wants to kiss her more than he has ever wanted to kiss her before. "We should probably get to the clubroom before Mitsuki decides that I've dragged you off to ravage you in the shadows of the stairwell." He takes a step back, but in honesty, it's not a bad idea.

"At least she's concerned for my well-being." Mirai chews on her lip for a moment and then reaches for his hand. When they step back into the main hallway together, they aren't all that surprised to find an audience consisting of Mirai's classmates and a few passers by. Both of them blush terribly.

"I sup-p-pose it's official now," she whispers to Akihito.

He grins and whispers back, "How fast do you think they'd scatter if you drew your blade?"


	15. Why Are You Wearing A Scarf?

"Akkey," Hiroomi's voice is curious in his perfectly uninterested way, "what's up with the scarf?"

Akihito feels the corner of his mouth tremble. _Crap_, he thinks. "It's just chilly out today," he replies, his eyes glued to the book in front of him. He cringes as Mirai - who tends to her bonsai at the windows of the clubroom - tries to mute a squeak of embarrassment.

Mitsuki's fingers pause over her laptop keys so that she can eat another cracker. "It's best to just let perverts be," she says to no one in particular, though she can't deny that she's a little suspicious too. Especially seeing how Mirai is conspicuously silent as she cares for each of her bonsai, when usually, the bespectacled girl is more quick to question Akihito about his fashion choices than her brother.

"It's not that chilly," Hiroomi notes, leaning back in his chair as he stares the half-youmu boy down. "And I, of all people, would know."

"Why is it such a big deal?" Akihito sighs loudly, closing his book and toying with the end of the scarf. "Jeez."

"I've heard that couples begin to take on each other's habits after a while," Mitsuki deadpans. "Before you know it, Aniki will be falling over himself for a pair of glasses."

"Glasses mean nothing if my little sister is not wearing them," Hiroomi vows as he crosses his arms over his chest, making his sister cringe.

Mirai allows herself a nervous chuckle as Akihito sinks further into his seat. "We are not a couple! A couple of perverts, maybe, but that's where I draw the line with him! Besides, the only pair of glasses I would fall over myself for are Kuriyama's."

The bespectacled beauty tugs on a tuft of his hair as she takes a chair next to him, feeling her cheeks warm at the compliment. "Don't be so loud about it, or people will start to get the wrong idea."

His eyes nearly pop out of his head. "The wrong idea?! I'm wearing a scarf because you-!"

The heat of her blush travels all the way to her forehead and she begins to clean the lenses of her glasses furiously, resisting the urge to flee from the room. Her face feels on fire and she thinks it might be better if she were to burn to ashes in this moment as her eyes flicker to her knees. Mitsuki bites into another cracker and raises an eyebrow while Hiroomi taps his chin in contemplation.

"It's a rash!" Akihito suddenly says, trying to spare both Mirai and himself further questioning.

"What kind of rashes do immortal half-youmu get?" Hiroomi murmurs, unconvinced.

"Besides rashes of idiocy, of course," Mitsuki chimes in. She studies Mirai's shrunken posture for a moment as the sherbet haired girl slips the glasses back onto her face and twists her golden ring obsessively around her finger, glowing like a stoplight. What does Akihito's scarf have anything to do with her?

At that moment, Mirai looks up and catches Mitsuki, whose eyes suddenly widen in understanding, her lips twitching into an amused smile.

"Oh," she says simply.

Akihito doesn't like the look on her face, and Hiroomi's expression is too curious for his own good. "It's nothing, really," he persists, tucking the article in question tighter around his neck.

Mirai shoots to her feet. "Uh, I o-ought to get g-going! Ayaka-san is expecting m-me to work a little later tonight and I n-need to eat beforehand!" Her stomach twists nervously as she makes to dart off, but Akihito's suddenly got his hand wrapped around her wrist.

"Liar! You don't work today! Don't leave me here to fend for myself!" he complains, eyes pleading with her as she turns around to tell him off.

Mitsuki scoffs. "Of all the things you are embarrassed about. Honestly, you should be grateful that someone like Kuriyama-san would come within a ten foot radius of you, seeing as you're someone who cuts out pictures of glasses wearing girls and uses them for wallpaper in your bedroom."

"I do not!" he yells back at her.

"Akkey," Hiroomi says and Akihito shudders uncomfortably at the way the older boy's voice curls around his name. One look at his face and suddenly abruptly, Akihito is sure that both Mitsuki and her brother have figured it out. The Nase boy smirks. "My precious little sister is right."

Mirai trembles in embarrassment, though a part of her doesn't regret anything at all. "K-K-Kanbara," she stammers out as she makes herself look very small in her pink cardigan. "I really have t-t-to go."

He stands and grabs their school bags before leading her from the room, all too willing to be away from the amused looks of the Nase siblings.

"Oh, Akihito?" Mitsuki mentions aimlessly before they can escape.

"Hmm?" he responds without turning around. Mirai has already fled the room.

"Use a little makeup next time," she says. "It's less conspicuous."

He remains silent as he follows his bespectacled beauty out the door and closes it behind him. She instantly buries her face in his chest.

"That was embarrassing," she mutters. "They are going to think I'm lewd now."

Though it's been a couple months since they've been reunited, he still revels in her proximity as he places a hand at her waist and kisses the top of her hair. "But you are lewd."

"I'm not! I didn't know I was leaving marks!" she cries out, pulling away from him.

Akihito groans because she's lying. She knew exactly what she was doing when she was pressing herself against him at his apartment door when he tried to prevent her from leaving so soon the night before. He was lucky that all he had to show for that were a couple of hickeys placed along the column of his neck, no matter how much embarrassment they suffered at the hands of the Nases.

"Careful, Mirai," he murmurs, his voice unexpectedly hot. "Playing innocent when I know you're not could get you in hot water."

She blushes and fixes the crooked slant of her glasses. "P-promise?" she says in a soft voice.

It takes everything in him not to push her up against the wall and kiss her stupid. He's already a certified pervert, but she makes him downright indecent. "Don't say things like that," he warns.

"I will say as I please, Akihito." She takes his hand in hers and gives it a squeeze, hiding the smile that threatens to pull at her mouth.

God damn it all, she's bold.

The next day when they come to school, Akihito still sports a scarf, and Mirai is wearing her turtleneck sweater.


End file.
